I spent some quality time researching government grants for medical research this week.

The reason -- I think I've unearthed a new and destructive medical syndrome.

While it is not potentially deadly like SARS, it does cause severe
discomfort.

I call it WADFFCD.

As you probably figured out by now, it stands for Waiting for your Architectural Draftsperson to F****** Finish the Construction Drawings.

Symptoms of WADFFCD include delusions of the construction process getting underway anytime soon and extreme anxiety followed by shriek-filled, uncontrollable sobbing when someone asks how your home is coming along.

Other, lesser-known symptoms include the compulsion to drive by your empty lot six or seven times a day just to make sure it is still there, and the need to buy home-design software for your computer so you can build a virtual version of your plan.

But the most dominant compulsion is to watch HGTV 24 hours a day. And The Designer Guys is the crack-cocaine of WADFFCD sufferers.

My wife and I love The Designer Guys. I don't mean we "love" love them, not that there would be anything wrong with that.

Hosts Steven Sabados and Chris Hyndman are gifted interior designers who can turn a urine-stained basement dorm room into a fantasy oasis with flair, in about an hour.

OK, they edit for broadcast, but my point is, I would give my dog-eared copy of Not So Big House to have them work on our dream home. During every reveal, my wife and I shake our heads at the spectacular transformation. Not once have we thought, "Yikes, that looks like something Hilde would trot out on Trading Spaces."

It made us realize it would be wise to get a designer involved in our project if -- I mean when -- we get our construction drawings.

We plan on hiring a designer to go over our plan with us and walk us through the process. We're hoping to select furniture, paint colours, and cabinet finishings with our designer in order to maximize the cohesive flow of our home. (I sound like Steven, all of a sudden ...)

I'm not saying I have a poor eye for design.

Although, I did get some sense that I may not be cut out for it when my wife subtly suggested that a 1985 poster from Bryan Adams' Reckless tour wasn't appropriate for the formal foyer in our current home.

Of course, I'll also never understand why "milk-crate chic" never caught on.