After having panicked over the disastrous state of my second-floor bathroom, I called around to see who knew how to proceed. One of my phone calls went to Ireno, the local jack-of-all-trades who had helped strip the hardwood floors down to their original 1901 splendor. (More on that later.)
Ireno surveyed the damage and said the floor was fine as it was. Normally, I'm appreciative of the no pasa nada approach, but in this case my senses were screaming something entirely different.
It turns out my brother-in-law, Arturo, worked regularly on home renovations throughout Manhattan and Brooklyn. After determining that new joists were needed, he and a friend proceeded to replace the 3-by-8 sections of lumber.
Cutting into the masonry, they went on to shore up the framing that was already there and properly box off the plumbing for the toilet drain. Underneath all the soggy tiles and poured concrete, it looked like a plumber had simply cut the joists to accommodate the commode.
That reminds me of a story my very capable — and highly recommended — building inspector, Matthew Barnett at Accurate Building Inspectors, told me:
You learn two things in plumbing school. On the first day, they teach you how to throw away the instructions. On the second day, they teach you how to cut wood.
I laughed, not knowing how true I would learn that to be. Matthew was also the one who asked me a poignant question following his inspection of the six-unit building at 289 Harman Street that I had originally planned to buy.
"Are you a general contractor?"
"No," I said.
"Well, you're gonna be."
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