Why I'm not going to help build my home.

We handed over the preliminary drawings to our builder finalists this week, so we're now playing the waiting game to see what they come up with for estimates.

Their results will dictate our next course of action -- proceed with the lowest bidder who also has the best standard spec list, or run screaming with our tails between our legs wondering why we thought we could afford this project in the first place.

To say we're a "tad" on edge over the prospect of receiving quotes similar to our first, horrifying total, would be like saying Michael Jackson is a "tad" weird.

The tension recently manifested itself in the form of a frustration-ignited blue streak on the tail end of a "should-have-been-simple" home improvement project.

Rosanne and I were replacing our pedestal sink in the bathroom. It was a simple matter of changing the cracked bowl with a new one, and reconnecting the plumbing. It would have taken my handyman brother-in-law, Bry, 10 minutes to complete.

After the first four hours went by, we knew we were in trouble.

This Osbournes-inspired exchange was illustrative of our ineptitude:

Rosanne: "What's this thingy?"

John: "I think it goes here."

Rosanne: "No. Maybe it goes here?"

John: "That piece is not even in the diagram."

Rosanne: "But, why would they put it in the box if we're not supposed to use it?"

John: "I think it HAS to go HERE."

Rosanne: "It doesn't make any ^%&* sense."

John: "Well, I can't see any other ^&*% place it can *&^% go."

Rosanne: "If you keep *&#% swearing at me, I'm *&#% leaving."

John : "*&# *#& U#& *&#$#&..."

Of course, as soon as Rosanne stomped off madder than a Trading Spaces homeowner whose room has been subjected to an orthogonal design, I figured it out. She was right.

Once I meekly admitted my error, we finished the sink.

The horror of that project made me flash back to Grade 7. That was when my shop teacher -- who had an artificial larynx and two missing fingers -- screamed at me, which sounded like a mix of Grover from Sesame Street and Wolfman Jack, after I jammed the radial arm saw working on my bookshelf project.

I bring these embarrassing events to public attention to show why we're not going "hands-on" with our dream home-building project.

While I can change lightbulbs, Decora switches and paint, I would never dream of installing drywall, doing the framing, or laying carpet.

As much as I would love to take three months off and build my own house, an item the handy bro-in-law made for me reminds me why I shouldn't.

It's a regular carpenter's hammer, except that it has a giant, five-inch diameter head welded onto it with the words "John's sure-shot" written on it. He made that for me after my beer-fuelled finger-mashing during the construction of my parents' screened porch.

If, like my brother-in-law, you have the ability to make every home project look easy, then you may want to consider being your own builder.

There are several excellent companies out there that can co-ordinate your project, like Star Building on the local front. One of my favourites is Nelson Homes out of B.C. They pre-fab all of the components in a giant warehouse and ship them out to you for "easy" assembly. (I use quotes around "easy" because that pertains only to "handy" people.)

If you surf their Web site, you'll see an awesome variety of housing styles, like the country beauty pictured here.

Just don't call me to help you build it.