RENO ROOKIE
Bathroom flood puts more projects on hold, but this DIYer is ready for more,
For the second tour of our would-be home, my wife and I came armed with tape measures and resolve. Accompanied by a friend who makes his living as a contractor, we went room-by-room in our east-end two-storey house identifying everything we were going to change — immediately. The hardwood floors in the living and dining rooms would have to go, along with the ugly popcorn ceiling. Reversing the upstairs bathroom door so it opened out, rather than in, was also a priority.
I’m sure we aren’t the only ones (especially in these days of “as-is” house purchases) that assumed we would quickly change a lot of what we bought. Inevitably, those projects have fallen by the wayside as things wore down (furnace), clogged (kitchen sink) and broke, as happened with the toilet in the basement bathroom — a project that would leave me in a puddle of water and wash away most of my ambition to tackle any other projects.
It started off as a small enough issue: the plastic flush lever in the toilet had snapped. The instructions on the flush valve replacement kit I bought seemed simple enough, so even though there were only a few hours until kickoff for an important game featuring my favourite NFL team, the Green Bay Packers, I figured I had enough time to finish this job. (Note to self: do these projects on Saturdays from now on).
It was smooth sailing at first. Outfitted in my Packers T-shirt, I followed the instructions, turning off the water valve near the base of the toilet, flushing it and soaking up the remaining water in the tank with paper towels.
Then I disconnected the supply line, removed the nuts attaching the tank to the bowl and removed the tank. Pleased with my speedy progress, I texted my wife that things were going great.
In retrospect, I should have held off on that text. To complete installing the new flush valve, the instructions told me to remove the locknut on the base of the tank. I had neither a locknut wrench or channel locks (which, according to YouTube, I needed), and so I tried wrapping a towel around the nut and muscling it loose, but no amount of grunting could get it to move.
Feeling defeated (perhaps it was foreshadowing for the game, which the Packers lost), I trudged upstairs to tell my wife we were without a functioning toilet downstairs. She shrugged and pointed out we had lived with one toilet in the condo and she was sure we’d manage now.
I settled in for the game but wasn’t able to enjoy it, knowing I’d lost my matchup that day. As I half-watched the TV I browsed more YouTube videos on my phone and found one in which a handy-woman replaced her toilet flapper valve in 30 seconds, simply draining the tank, discon- necting the lift chain, slipping off the rubber valve and putting on the new one. I shook my head in disgust at the time I’d wasted.
It was nearing bedtime when I returned to tackle the toilet, this time with what I had thought was better luck. I turned the water back on and stood back to admire my handiwork, but my wry smile washed away as jets of water came spurting out from around the two nuts attaching the tank which, evidently, I hadn’t tightened properly.
I turned the valve back off and sprinted upstairs to grab plastic bowls and yell for help. Back at the bowl, I desperately tightened the nuts with a wrench (thankfully stemming the flow) as water pooled around my feet and inched toward the shower curtain.
My wife, who had been getting ready for bed, was not as sympathetic this time.
“Why did you have to do this at this time of night?” she asked, shouting to be heard over the noise from her hair dryer, which she was using to dry out the shower curtain. (At least, I like to think that’s why she was shouting).
After that little hiccup, I can assure you these days our house looks much the same — save for a new coat of paint in the spare bedroom and the new fixture in the dining room.
But now that I’m entering Year 2 of home ownership — with no more floods to my credit — it’s time to start remaking this place as we first imagined. I’ll start with that popcorn ceiling that’s mocked me with a newly formed crack. Matthew Chung, 32, is a communications manager living in and attempting to renovate his first house in Toronto’s east end. His occasional column appears Friday. You can connect with him via LinkedIn or Twitter @matthewjchung.