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Last Updated: March 15, 2008 - 3:24 PM
Spring Guide 2007: Remodel = Research
By Zane Fischer
Published: March 14, 2007
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When OCD stands for “obsessive construction disorder.”
You know how some people shouldn’t be allowed to own copies of Physicians’ Desk Reference or have access to www.webmd.com? Because they’ll end up certain they have Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease or avian influenza? I always feel sorry for the doctors who have to put up with a visit from a patient who knows damn well that a slightly puffy discoloration of the skin might just indicate the sudden onset of Ebola.
Over the course of a six-month home remodeling project my wife and I began last fall, and are finishing as the weather turns to spring, it’s become clear that I’m a hypochondriac of sorts myself. It’s not health issues I obsess over, though; it’s construction.
I have the curse of (some) experience, having worked as a professional framing carpenter and a painting contractor, as well having been forced by a series of dilapidated apartments and sordid duplexes into learning the basics of plumbing and electrical work. Couple that with an Internet-inspired
It’s come a long way: before (above) and after shots of the author’s kitchen. (Photos by Zane Fischer.) |
weakness for obsessive research and you get the homeowner no subcontractor wants to deal with.
If the plasterer says, for example, “We can even out this wall by adding some sand to the mixture for a thicker coat,” he’s likely to hear me recite three or four sources that recommend against too much sand, because crumbling and flaking
can result. If I’m told that 5- and 7-inch wood planks will be fine as a finish floor atop a hydronic radiant heating system, I’m liable to say, “Hold it there, buddy—not according to the American Hardwoods Association.” Couple that with the fact that I work at home and my office and Internet connection are just a few steps away from where the renovation is being done, and you have an entire construction crew rolling their eyes in unison each time I disappear for a round of research on the most appropriate means of measuring moisture levels in new concrete or the likelihood of cross-linked polyethylene plumbing lines leaching MTBE into the water.
I don’t confine my research to building techniques and materials either. Informing oneself about the number of potential inspections a home buyer can and should spring for in addition to a general inspection—such as water quality, mold and radon—can easily lead to a dangerously small amount of knowledge regarding a broad swath of alarming issues. If you buy a fancy house in Tesuque, the odds are plenty good that you’ll have uranium in your water. One of the most common forms of mold—which might be growing behind your sheetrock or under your sink, given the right conditions—can become a powerful enough carcinogen to kill, say, 10,000 turkeys, as it did in Britain in the 1960s. More than 40 percent of homes in Santa Fe have a radon level above safe EPA levels, and radon is the second leading cause of lung cancer in the United States, credited with 20,000 deaths annually.
Obsessive research, however, has benefits beyond annoying the people you hire and scaring the bejesus out of yourself. When it was determined that we needed to use an oriented strand board (OSB) subfloor, I was adamant about finding one manufactured without formaldehyde, which, research will tell you, the European Union considers a carcinogen. It took a few days of being told “no such thing” and “can’t get that here” before an East Coast manufacturer I had located was able to connect me with a New Mexico-based distributor willing to order it for me.
Not only did big-box home improvement stores not have the flexibility to order such an uncommon product, but a little delving into economics will demonstrate that $45 out of every $100 spent at a local store recirculates in the community, as opposed to only $12 spent at a chain store. Plus, if you walk into a big-box chain and ask them which low-e rating is most appropriate for windows in Santa Fe’s climate, I promise you’ll get a blank stare and, quite possibly, some drool. The pleasure of dealing with a local business for major purchases comes from the fact that, no matter how much research I do, I don’t end up knowing more about the product than the business does, something that frequently happens with chain stores (and car dealerships).
Of course, finding the right businesses and professionals to work with requires research in itself. Santa Fe word-of-mouth led us to the best experiences of the whole process: the friendly folks and encyclopedic window knowledge at Brother Sun; the world’s most beautiful bathtub at Santa Fe by Design; and quite possibly the most professional and perfect cabinet designers and installers in the galaxy, Kitchen Dimensions.
Likewise, the best tradespeople we found—too numerous to list here—stemmed from the aggressive interrogation of trusted friends and associates. But perhaps the most important thing to research when beginning a remodel or building project is a little Spanish. In New Mexico, it’s a guarantee that at some point, you’ll be working with Mexican nationals or other folks who prefer Spanish. My wife is fluent, but one morning when she decided to sleep in, it was up to me. In an attempt to explain where she was, I said, “Mi esposa esta en la cama con los sueños.” If you’ve been doing your research, you’ll know why everyone in the room met me with a rousing cry of “¡Orale!”
© Copyright 2000-2008 by the Santa Fe Reporter
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