My horror story begins in my grandparent's house. I was pregnant, and we were trying to save money; my boyfriend and I decided to move in with my aunt and uncle who were staying there.
One month later, I realized that there were multiple repairs that absolutely must be made. The downstairs (our new bedroom) had deteriorating carpet due to past flooding, and the room reeked of mildew. Not only was this annoying, but also a health hazard.
We found the perfect carpet. It was practically brand new, yet only a fraction of the expected cost. We loaded up the carpet (a couple hundred pounds worth) into my uncle's truck and headed home. My uncle expected my boyfriend to haul out every piece alone, which was impossible. So, we had to leave half of our project in the back of an uncovered pickup truck. Guess what happened? Right! It rained.

I was a bit aggravated by my uncle's unhelpful behavior, but we made the best of the situation. Although inexperienced, he directed the installation of our new carpet.. After the hours of work that my boyfriend and another guy put in, we were successful! It looked great; we were proud. My uncle was exceptionally proud of himself. So proud, in fact, that he decided to start his own plumbing business.
The bathroom was our next venture. I was a bit worried, but I bought the new toilet anyway. It was expensive, to say the least. It sat in the bathroom for weeks, untouched and uninstalled. This is a three story house, so by the eighth month of my pregnancy, I certainly had no interest in walking up two flights of stairs for relief.
Finally, the toilet got installed. My uncle actually helped! I couldn't believe it. And by "helped", I mean he managed his brother, and occasionally, dropped to his knees and played in the dirt. We were on our way to a finished washroom, and I didn't mind that his "home renovation" techniques involved bragging and complaining while simultaneously neglecting to actually do any work. At least everything was on the way to completion.
Then the toilet broke. And the tile continued to sit in a pile stacked up in the corner of the bathroom until it accumulated so much dust that it was a different color.
My boyfriend and I decided we could no longer handle the unsanitary conditions, so we found an apartment. Just a few weeks later, I learned from other members of the family, that my uncle was now pouting; he was upset that we moved after "all the money and work" that he put into the renovation. He continued to brag about his repair abilities until he was almost sued for ruining someone else's bathroom.
Here's my suggestion: sometimes you must take things into your own hands. If your hands are full, you may just have to skip the renovation and choose the best path- even if that path leads out the door!

Learn more about this author, Carri Sturgeon.
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