This-making something nicer to live in, not stick people-is called "home improvement."

Our family has taken on a few home-improving tasks, one of the more recent projects being painting our dining room.

For those of you lucky enough not to have seen our dining room before the remodel, I will just note that the floral wallpaper hadn't been changed since the Stoner Age.

Our first task was peeling off the wallpaper, and the second task was listening to Dad fume about the second layer of wallpaper that we found underneath.

This wallpaper was even worse than the first layer, mainly because it was pea green and light brown-which probably meant that the wallpaper was originally white, but over the years had become discolored and also served as a home for mold.

We eventually got to the basic wall, which was when we were forced to decide on colors. Our decision was that we wanted most of the room to be some form of white. But in an attempt to modernize, we decided to have an accent wall.

I personally hoped that we would go for French.

The color we finally agreed on was a sort of light purple, probably with an over-dramatic name like "Fresh Sun Faded Plum From a Large Field in the Middle of Minnesota" (not its real name).

At least, it was a light purple on the color sample sheet.

Once it was actually painted on the entire wall, it looked like a large oil tanker truck carrying a full load of Pepto Bismol had crashed onto our wall. Yet, it still made us sick to our stomachs.

So we repainted.

Of course, not all of our projects have been so successful. Recently, my dad decided to finally get the ceiling light in the bathroom to work, so the room's lighting wouldn't depend on the vanity lights next to the mirror.

Thankfully, someone (most likely an electrician) had given him instructions. These were drawn on the top of a ceiling tile from Tabor College.

After standing on a ladder twisting around wires-with me on a ladder next to him holding up the light fixture and trying not to get punched in the nose with his ever-moving elbow-Dad got the florescent light screwed into the ceiling.

Now was the big moment to see the result of his handiwork.

He turned the light switch on, and the vanity lights came on. Yet, the ceiling light remained off. So Dad turned the switch off: the vanity lights went off, and the ceiling light came on.

I was enjoying myself. Dad was studying his ceiling tile, confused.

Dad eventually got his wiring straightened out, but a few days later we had another problem on our hands.

This time in the sewage department.

Since we'd moved into our house, the basement would periodically start to smell like a group of skunks had crawled inside our pipes and decided to hold a contest. (I think you know what the contest was.) But it would always go away.

Now, it was starting to get worse, and Dad decided to call in some actual plumbers, probably because you can't draw an entire plumbing system on the back of a ceiling tile.

With three trucks with "Flamings" on them all outside our house, it looked like the entire area Plumbing Swat Team had been assigned duty in our basement.

(By the way, two of the plumbers told me-if I wrote about this-not to say that their names were Ben and Merle.)

Their first attempt at clearing our pipes included sending some sort of vibrating metal hose through a floor drain and trying to clear up any grease clogs or rip out tree roots.

Not much happened.

This is when Merle (the head plumber) ordered that they wheel in the camera.

I asked if video copies would be available in the lobby afterward.

This camera-officially known as the SeeSnake-was situated at the end of a long tube, which they could send into our pipes and, via miraculous modern technology, watch "Full House" on the attached black-and-white monitor.

Of course, I am just kidding.

We actually were able to see inside our pipes and watch for any blockage. I fought the urge to say "This is your bloodstream...."

Ben noted that earlier that day they had seen Herman Munster. My dad asked if they had ever found Al Capone.

We eventually found a tangled mass of roots at about 96 feet, also located directly under the edge of our front yard.

But, according to the plumbers, digging up the pipes and replacing them won't be necessary for the time being. They suggested that we do it someday, but for now we would survive.

I would personally like to get one of those SeeSnakes. Ben said that for a couple thousand more dollars, I could get color. But I'm not sure if I really need to know if the neighbors use pink toilet paper.

* * *

UFO: Hippos' sweat is red. They must drink a lot of Gatorade. Is it in you?

Don't ask why.