“Over the years I’ve learned a lot by watching home improvement shows on TV,” I say to my beloved wife Marsha.
“Yes dear,” she says, looking longingly at the newspaper on her lap.
“For example, I’ve learned to never, ever, under any circumstance try to repair my own plumbing or wiring,” I say.
“Hmmm,” says she, hunching closer to the newspaper.
“And roofing!” I say. “There’s a real art to putting flashing on a roof to keep the water out, but I’ve learned to leave it to the pros.”
I look over at her and see that her eyes are closed and she’s taking the slow breaths of deep sleep.
At that moment I decide to wait to call people to fix the toilet, the flickering light in the bedroom and the suspect shingles on the roof.
Instead, I decide to do something productive. I turn on the TV to watch a home improvement show.
It is the first episode of several to come, so it starts with a tour of the big house the experts are going to renovate. It will be a big job with the requisite big addition to an already huge primary bedroom, the removal of walls to attain the open concept that is de rigueur on such shows.
Ugly old asbestos siding has to be removed, the grounds need to be re-landscaped and of course every appliance including the entire HVAC system needs to be replaced. It is The Law of Home Improvement Shows.
Most concerning to me but left with barely a comment by the capable and affable people on the TV show is the wallpaper in the home.
Every surface of every room in the big old house is plastered with gaudy, fussy, crazily-colored wallpaper. It looks as though 1,000 clowns coughed up on the walls and ceilings. I swear, I think even the piano and refrigerator are wallpapered with tiny daisies. Retinal shock.
Don’t get me wrong — I fully appreciate that every homeowner has the right to decorate their own home as they see fit. Who among us has not said about the former owners upon moving into a new home, “What were they thinking!?”
But this — this way-over-the-top assault to the ocular sense should be classified at least as a high misdemeanor if not a felony.
I recall as a late teen when my mom decided to pursue the trend of the time by covering her entire kitchen, including the ceiling with gaudy huge-flowered wallpaper. Then, Dad decided to tap some maple trees and create his own syrup. He put huge pots of sap on the kitchen stovetop to simmer all night long.
It so happened I was the first to go to the kitchen the next morning. Every piece of wallpaper now lay on the countertops, the floor, the top of the refrigerator — all steamed off. Thankfully, Mom never replaced it.
The real tragedy was that the maple syrup was contaminated by wallpaper paste and had to be thrown away.
When the home improvement episode ends, I lean back and let the TV go to the next episode, which picks up shortly after the craftsmen have gutted the entire house, and nearly every shred of shockingly tacky wallpaper has gone into huge dumpsters along with the plaster.
The entire atmosphere of the home is improved. The workers are whistling tunes from “Snow White.” Mirrored sunglasses and eyepatches are tucked away in flannel pockets.
There is hope for salvation of the old house, if only the owners can be locked up until the designers and painters are finished.
— Jim Whitehouse lives in Albion.
