DIY is a rollicking tale that begins with the intense physical pain of childbirth and quickly devolves into the intense psychological pain of owning a Fixer-Upper. Along the way, half of the household learns to juggle the responsibilities of work, remodeling, and removal of bear spray from a child's eyes, and the other half learns how to cuss, demolish a room over a short holiday, and operate a nail gun while maintaining a solid C in geometry. This book began as a warning to others who may be considering buying a house that "needs a little work", but after the fire, floods, and mechanical failures, could only be written as a tragic comedy. Like Shakespeare, reading it is a wild ass experience punctuated with disbelief that people can actually get themselves in these types of predicaments. Keep in mind as you read though: it's all true.
Sadly.