The air conditioner condenser that drained into the shower. Check. The tile guy who arrived for work at 8 a.m. so drunk he fell off the back step. Check. The electrician who installed the exhaust fan in the wrong room. Check.The disappearing carpenter. Check. Adventures in do-it-yourself sheetrock. Check. The shocking experience of 80-year-old wiring. Check.
I’m a sucker for an old house. Which means that for the past 25 years or so, my husband and I have endured a never-ending series of fixer-upper catastrophes, some of which, I’ll admit, we perpetrated ourselves. If you’ve been following my blog posts lately, you know I’ve been working on my latest novel, THE FIXER-UPPER, at the same time we’ve been fixing up our circa-1943 beach house on Tybee Island.