The Wonderful Husband learned the hard way not to take me shopping for real estate.

Back in his single days, when he had nothing but free time on his hands, the WH dabbled in house flipping.I have also dabbled in fix-up work, including some time spent as an electrician's apprentice, and a house painter. So, in our early days, buying an "investment" property seemed like a good idea.The real estate agent knew exactly what she was doing when she escorted us up the stairs into what would become our enormous living room. Our entryway is small and not well lit, even a little bit grim. The expectations for what lies above are very low.As we made our way up the steps, the future WH gave me that look that said, "We're probably not going to make it out of here alive."Then, voilà! The living room.Fireplace? Check.Built in bookshelves? Check.French doors? Check.Big enough to roller skate in? Check.I could go on and on. I was instantly smitten and blinded by the built-in china closets in the dining room.Let's just say that when you buy a house that was built around the same time as our country engaged in the Civil War, you need to stop thinking "investment" and start thinking Gigantic Pit that Will Suck Your Wallet and Your Soul Dry.Our first project was to tackle a third-floor apartment in the rear of the building that had sustained serious water damage. The roof above had been repaired. However, the previous owners got smart and got out before throwing more good money after bad.We ambitiously dug in. We painted, we stripped, we stained, we tiled, we grouted, we gave up and hired a contractor friend to replace and finish every window in the place.We plotted over historic color schemes and themes, we toured liquidator warehouses to find period appropriate pieces, we examined retro light fixtures, we pulled wires, we installed outlets.We gave up and paid an electrician to tear out the wiring that may have been installed by Edison himself and rewire the entire place.Finally, we had an open house to celebrate our hard work and show the place to prospective tenants. Our friends came. Our families came. Prospective tenants did not. Apparently setting the rent at the rate we needed to recoup our expenses was a huge turnoff.Eventually we did get a tenant, which was a huge relief, since not long after that, we experienced the surprised added feature of an indoor swimming pool in the basement. Yes, thanks to a small failure in the town's infrastructure, the creek that runs under the town ended up in basements all along our street. Not once, but twice. Delightful!Luckily, the town eventually made repairs to the creek tunnel, and life was good. Until we realized that during the course of the repairs, something happened to block the internal rain gutter from emptying into the creek.Yes, in the 1920s, when that part of the house was added on to, putting a giant pipe to remove water from your roof INSIDE your house seemed like a good idea. This led to the temporary rooftop swimming pool! I will never forget the phone call from the fire department."Were you aware that you have 2 feet of water standing on your roof?" When your roof is as wide as an entire block, that's a lot of water.Our five-year plan to rehabilitate the entire building and move on with our lives ran out of money after the first year and ran out of ambition and energy at about the same time our kids started showing up.However, we are gearing up for the next chapter in our lives, and while we plan to keep the property, we will soon be moving our living quarters back to the "country." We've had to get back on track with our rehabilitation plans.There is a certain amount of satisfaction that comes from a freshly painted wall or a newly installed light fixture, and with three new "assistants" who just LOVE to paint, I'm sure we will get the rest of this place shipshape in no time.Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.