When insurance fails, DIY steps in

There comes a moment in adulthood when you realise two things simultaneously: your insurance “policy wording” is dubious and you are now apparently a handyman.

I learnt this lesson after a mini-tornado ripped through my neighbourhood, toppling trees and, in the process, left huge holes in the front and back walls of my property.

I knew that I was in for a nasty surprise right after the assessor walked through my property, shaking his head sympathetically while measuring the size of the house and flatlets, before hastily making notes.

Then the call came, saying, “Unfortunately, you are underinsured.” What followed was grief, denial, rage… and sudden trips to the hardware store.

Yes, I am unqualified to fix anything. Dangerously so. I knew that when I stood in the aisle staring at different types of cement. I also bought tools based purely on how confident the packaging sounds.

Anything labelled “Pro”, “Ultra” or “Heavy Duty” went straight into the trolley. If insurance wouldn’t fix it, brute optimism would. I began my education through trial, error and YouTube. Mostly error. The man in the video finished the job in six minutes.

I was three hours in, bleeding slightly and had somehow made the problem worse. But I persevered, because spite is an excellent motivator.

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Soon I learnt valuable skills. Like how to remove cement from bricks to re-use them when rebuilding a wall.

Or that “measure twice” is not a suggestion, but a definite. I also discovered that the front wall wasn’t level, straight or strong.

My confidence grew. I stopped calling professionals. I was a professional now. Friends asked who fixed the wall. I said, casually, “I did”. I didn’t mention the swearing, the crying, or the four attempts it took.

I developed a deep distrust of assessors and an even deeper respect for willpower. I learnt that duct tape is not a permanent solution, but it is a very convincing temporary one.

Eventually, I started enjoying it. The fixing. The rebuilding. The quiet satisfaction of standing back and thinking, “Well, it hasn’t fallen down yet.”

Insurance may not have come through. But I did. And when the next claim gets rejected, I won’t panic. I’ll sigh, put on my oldest clothes, and reach for the toolbox.

Because nothing builds resilience like being forced to fix your own mess; with zero payout and a growing collection of power tools you don’t yet fully understand.

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