When you are the contractor - construction of additional rooms - includes related article on being a do-it-yourself contractor

Sunset, August, 1996

How one homeowner supervised the construction of several rooms

In 1980 our 1,500-square-foot first home in Santa Fe's historic district seemed 'palatial. Fourteen years later, with two children, we had a growing file labeled "More Room." It was full of sketches, magazine pictures, jotted ideas for an addition. When my husband, Bill, moved his one-person office into our house, it was time for the file to become more than wishful thinking.

The family drew up an action list: one room for Bill's office, a big storage closet, a small bathroom with a pocket darkroom, and a workspace for me. By refinancing our mortgage, we were able to obtain what we thought was enough cash, $25,000, which included a 10 percent contingency fund.

March. We sketched rough plans and asked an architect for advice (for a consulting fee of less than $500). She suggested expanding the storage closet into a larger room that could someday function as another bedroom. She made alterations to improve traffic patterns and make better use of space and views. She told us city hall accepted owner-drawn plans for additions, so we could save money by doing our own final draft. Using the house's original blueprints as guides, I drew the required floor plan, elevations, and cross sections for the addition.

Two contractors looked at our plans and gave rough cost estimates. Both were over our budget, even for a shell. A builder friend suggested we could save about 20 percent by acting as our own contractor.

April. I haunted builders' supply stores, learning prices for lumber, cement, and rebars. I sized windows and found reasonably priced fixtures, paint, and bricks. I called everyone I knew who had done any building in the last few years, and made a list of recommended plumbers, masons, framers, finish carpenters, and electricians. I found a backhoe driver who helped estimate the amount of dirt to be moved and knew how to save the trees. I got estimates from carpenters, masons, and others and made a timeline for organizing and ordering supplies, arranging city inspections, and scheduling work crews. I realized I had decided to do the contracting myself.

May. I now had a rough idea of current costs. Finances would be tight. Still, I took our original plan to city hall. Meanwhile, telephone calls and questions had begun to pay off. I made a new file for each part of the job, from excavation to tiles, and kept track of everything.

A friend called to recommend a team of four mason-carpenters looking for work. They were the third such team to come to our site. We walked around pointing at the undisturbed ground and the plans. They seemed to know more than any of the others, and I liked them. The latter was important because they would be at our home every day for the next few months. Like the others, they had subcontractors they liked to work with - in this case, an electrician. I would have to find a plumber, roofer, insulation installer, and plasterer. After verifying insurance, licenses, and references, I asked all three teams for official bids.

What I considered the best core group (the third team) came in with the middle bid, which was several hundred dollars higher than the lowest bid. But they were the most personable and seemed the best qualified. I told them they were hired.

June. City planners and the historic review committee approved our plan. I had made several trips downtown for explanations. The day the concrete mixer came to pour the foundation we had to wait for a city inspector, who finally arrived just before the stuff turned solid.

The first plumber did not get along with the mason, and I spent anxious days locating another plumber. Fortunately, everyone liked my second choice. The water line proved to be much deeper than expected, which tripled the estimated excavation budget. Bill spent hours in that dangerous trench, hand-digging the last inches.

Plumbing, resized windows, and a redesigned doorway drove up costs. Our contingency fund and our energy ran low. We downgraded plans for interior wall finishing from plaster to much cheaper drywall. I wondered if I had taken on too much. But by July 1 the walls were up and so were our spirits; the roof was on, and concrete cutters came to cut a doorway from the addition into the original house. Dust became a way of life for us, but the rooms were becoming reality.

July. I donned gloves to sand and oil doors, moldings, and window frames. Some of these windows were heavily discounted floor samples. We found decorative tiles for the shower and counter trim in a local tile maker's bone pile. The whole family painted walls and helped seal the new brick floor. I installed the tiles. I think the workers respected us for our labor. We tried to stay out of their way, working at night or on weekends. It was a big job. The crew developed a taste for cappuccino from my kitchen. When they offered to do the drywall for a reasonable price, we drew out savings and said yes.

Bill worked from a series of temporary desk surfaces. I squeezed in writing assignments late at night, increasingly aware that being your own contractor is a full-time job. Images of finished new offices kept us going.