My first furniture flip: a $25 dresser that sold for $140

The bottom drawer would not come out. I had one foot braced against the dresser in our carport and both hands on the pull, and I was saying words I do not say at the pharmacy. Tyler came out to see what the noise was, looked at it for maybe ten seconds, and pointed out that the wooden runner underneath had cracked and wedged itself sideways.

That was day two of my first furniture flip. Here's the whole thing, start to finish, with every dollar and every hour.

I've been watching furniture on Facebook Marketplace for months, mostly the "free, you haul" and "$20, must go" listings. In early October, a woman cleaning out her late brother's house near Callao listed a four-drawer dresser for $25. Solid wood, dovetailed drawers, a few scratches, one water ring on top and, as I found out later, one stuck drawer. Tyler and I drove out with the truck on a Saturday morning and had it home within the hour.

What it cost

I borrowed Tyler's orbital sander, and I already had brushes, a small foam roller and a drop cloth from when we painted the bathroom. The quart went further than I expected. There's about a third of it left for the next piece.

The hours

I kept track of my time on the calendar on the fridge, because I knew I'd lie to myself about it otherwise.

Picking it up took an hour. Cleaning and sanding took four, spread over two evenings after work, because the old finish was thick and that water ring went deeper than it looked. The drawer took two. Tyler showed me how to glue the runner and clamp it overnight, and then how to rub an old candle along the runners so the drawer slides instead of sticks. Two coats of paint took three hours with drying time in between. Putting on the knobs, taking photos in the late afternoon light and writing the listing took one. Answering messages and meeting the buyer took one more.

That's 12 hours.

I listed it at $165 on a Tuesday night. By Wednesday morning I had eleven messages. Seven were "Is this still available?" followed by nothing. One man offered $80, which I didn't answer. One woman asked if I'd deliver to Kirksville for free, which I also didn't answer. On Sunday a young woman setting up her first apartment in Moberly offered $140 if she could pick it up that afternoon. I said yes before she could change her mind.

She showed up with her dad and a borrowed truck. He pulled the bottom drawer all the way out and pushed it back in three times, which made me very glad I'd fixed it instead of hoping nobody would check.

The real math

A $140 sale minus $70 in costs is $70 of profit. Divided by 12 hours, that's $5.83 an hour. I make $17.50 an hour at the pharmacy, so my first flip paid exactly one third of my regular wage.

That sounds bad, and on paper it is. But a few things make me think the next one will go better. The drawer repair was a one-time lesson, and now I know how to do it. I have a third of a quart of paint left, so the next piece starts with some of its supplies already paid for. And I spent a good two hours sanding out one water ring, which I now know to look for before I hand anybody $25.

The bigger thing is that I liked it. I like taking something that was one bad week away from the dump and making it nice enough that a stranger's dad checks the drawers and nods. Most of my hobbies cost money. This one paid me $70, and it got me out of the house on cool October evenings instead of sitting on the couch scrolling.

Everything went on the Extra tab in the sheet, the same place we track Tyler's mowing money and anything else that isn't a paycheck. The $70 I'd spent went back into a little flip envelope in the kitchen drawer, so the next piece pays for itself. The $70 of profit went to the house fund on Monday.

Tyler asked if furniture money counts for taxes the way his mowing money does. I told him I'd find out before tax season, and I will. For now, there's a pair of nightstands in the carport that I paid $30 for, and before I handed over a dime, I pulled out every single drawer.