Recovery Leads to an Addiction

Friday, June 17, 2011

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Recovery Leads to an Addiction

By J’AMY PACHECO

When I had surgery in April, I knew the recovery process would be fairly lengthy. It never crossed my mind that I might end up with an addiction as a result.

Don’t panic—it wasn’t drugs. I never did take the scary pain relievers that were prescribed and which I knew sometimes got people hooked. Nor was it alcohol, nicotine, gambling or anything else that has an “anonymous” program associated with it.

My addiction came as a result of spending hours at a time lying on the family room couch. I’m not sure how it got started, except that at some point, I turned the television channel to a show that documented a couple’s search for a new house.

It may have been because I was in the same position a little over a year ago, but I found myself interested as the couple viewed three homes with a realtor, then made an offer on one.

It was followed by another show that was essentially the same, but that went international. With fascination, I watched as couples from places like England bought vacation homes in places like Spain.

Part of what fascinated me was trying to figure out how these ordinary-looking, working class couples could afford to buy homes in exotic locales, and what kind of vacation leave they got that made a foreign home worthwhile.

The other element that I found intriguing was that the homes in some of these locales were so different from what I’d seen while looking for a new house. One couple would only look at homes that were built, cave-style, into the sides of hills. And they bought one.

Right below the house hunting channel, I found another that was all home improvement, all the time. Now, that’s something I know a little bit about.

When we did finally find our dream home in a wonderful community, it was a dump. We had work done on it for a month before we moved in. Even so, the first time I took a shower in the house, the shower door fell off.

We’ve done a lot of work on the house, but it still needs more. The kitchen, for example, not only retains its 20-year-old decor, but significant parts of it were eaten by a very large dog at some point in its history.

I want to re-do the kitchen; I just don’t know what I want to do with it. So it sits, clean, but partially digested.

I started watching home improvement shows. And there are a lot of them. There are shows about fixing your home to make it look nice for prospective buyers, and one that teaches viewers how to turn parts of their homes into rental units. I’ve seen shows on how to fix your yard, how to correct renovation disasters, and even how to build your very own house after clawing out a clearing in the wilderness.

I’ve learned a lot. It was on a home improvement show that I discovered you could make countertops out of concrete. I hate my white tile countertops, and really want some new ones. But I’m too cheap for granite, and know Formica-like substances will never survive my family.

Now, I know pouring a concrete counter is nothing like pouring a concrete sidewalk—which is something else we need to do. The only thing stopping me from trying it is knowing that it will take days to cure, and I know I can’t keep my family—or our little dog—out of the kitchen that long.

I now know how to refinish a wooden handrail, and how to replace rotting joists. Heck, I even know what joists are.

To say I’m addicted to these home-related channels is an understatement. When I eat breakfast in the morning, I’m watching Nicole Curtis work on the restoration of a vintage Minneapolis mansion on “Rehab Addict.” And, oddly enough, I want to go help her.

When I can’t watch, I’m often recording shows like “My Yard Goes Disney” and “Run My Renovation” so I can view them later. I’m addicted enough to the concept of home improvement that my understanding family bought me a sander for Mother’s Day. A very good one, I might add.

I’m not really concerned about my addiction, though. I ran across another channel that has a show on which people compete to best one another at cupcake making. I watched it a couple times, then pronounced it a waste of time.

I haven’t actually sanded anything with the sander, but at least I know how to use it. That kitchen will be a thing of beauty in no time.

And if I mess it up, we can always relocate to a cave—now that I know how that’s done.