Late August: Cutting Everything, Eating Nothing
Reno Ridiculouso: Waiting for Bull Talker Contractor to
“X+#@ or get off the pot”, and planning what we’ll do after he decides
Food Mood: I like bread.
A lot.
And now, we wait. The
engineer, Architect and City Inspector have all told Bull Talker what
he needs to do and we’re waiting to hear what he’ll say. Honestly, we’re assuming that he’ll say no
but we have to give him the chance to make this right. So we’re giving him two
weeks. Two agonizing, endless, god help me weeks, added to the four that have
already passed while we’ve halted construction, called in the experts and
exchanged carefully worded emails of angst.
And because I’m me ( a virgo people, a serious, serious
virgo) we plan what we’ll do if he doesn’t return and we’re out a good bit of
cash on badly done work and we have to go on. I don’t think I’ve felt this
emotional since my early twenties when I honestly lived in a high state of emotional
drama. We drink. A LOT.
We think about blaming each other, but don’t. We pace the back section all through the
beautiful summer nights, looking at what’s there and wondering what comes next.
An inventory of what we have:
- · One foundation for new section, laid one block higher then we wanted and (we find out during this engineer inspection) not quite square, although maybe not deadly
- · Five walls, three that are eighteen inches too high, one that won’t bear the load that it’s intended to and all somehow dodgely connected to roof joists, which I’ll remind you are currently attached to our siding. Oh, and the four walls of the dining room are out by four inches from end to end. Yep. The part of the dining room closest to the house is four inches less wide then the part on the garden end.
- · One set of roof joists, laid in the wrong direction, eighteen inches higher than desired, and as noted above, attached to our damned siding. Oh and because it’s eighteen inches higher, blocking the view from our daughters upper bedroom window.
And we both know. There’s nothing to be done. We have to go back to the foundation and
start again.
So we get out a bottle of wine and we talk
long into the night. Maybe we don’t
build the dining room, maybe it just becomes a really awesome deck. That’d be ok, right? And after about three hours we agree that no,
we would always know what it had been meant to be and would never enjoy
it. So, we cut the beautiful overhang
that was meant to connect the two back doors to make a seamless look at the
back entry. And then we cut the French
doors because they’ll look stupid without the overhang that made it work and
besides we’re going to need that money back from returning them. And we decide that it will have to be Tyvek
only this year and wait on siding for next year because we are going to run out
of time before it snows.
And so
we talk, long into the night. And we
drink. A Lot. And we don’t cook, we just eat bread
And cheese. And we let it go. The anger and the frustration, the dreams and
imaginings. We let it go and move on
. And when the long dark tea time of the
soul ends, we still have eachother.
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