I must be getting not only older, but a tiny bit wiser, as well (and I’m not referring to a specific part of my anatomy), as I spent this Labor Day weekend actually resting. While I’m pleased as punch with the fact that I’m getting a house built exactly how I want it, and it is proceeding at an acceptable pace, and I haven’t had as many contractor or equipment nightmares (knock on wood) as I might, my stress hormone levels are higher than the corn in Iowa right now, and the weekend off did me good. I lolled about quite a bit, reading a mammoth historical novel (The Other Boleyn Girl), and went on long hikes and generally caught up on doing nothing. I had a huge stack of nothing in the corner because I haven’t been doing much nothing lately, and over the weekend I started to catch up.
Not that it will last, as I’m still not living in my new house, so the opportunities for meeting new and exciting clusterfucks are myriad and plentiful. Still, it looks okay for this week. Tuesday Roger will start building the garage, and Bruce will be there laying the radiant heat tubing, and the floor-pour is scheduled for Friday. Since there are stairs down into the greenhouse area Roger wanted to have his favorite concrete finishers with him, and they aren’t available until then. I have promised more apple pie, and will take the day off so that I can be there to gopher and feed people pie.
The double-paned, argon-filled, low-e, high solar-gain windows are on order, but it was not without a fair amount of explaining and educating. I called three or four window places, and at least half of them had no idea what the difference between low-e and low solar-gain was. Inexcusable, if you ask me, and I was tempted to not patronize them on the basis of doing my part for Darwin, and cleaning up the gene pool of glaziers, but in the end I’m too cheap. I’ll educate them if they’ll get me what I want at a price I like.
I have gone ahead and stolen an idea from my artist friend, Wes, and decided to side the garage and the studio in plain, silver, corrugated tin. Like you see on grain bins. I’m really a pretty good decider (on this, and only this, the Shrub and I are alike), and when Roger comes trooping in to the office, calling “Jaaaaaasminnnnne….” just like Ricky to Lucy, to throw another decision in my lap like a recently caught and unkilled carp, the ease with which I decide- or, if you will, dispatch the carp – can startle even me. Roger told me to decide on the siding, and for about ten minutes I thought about how nice the tan-colored tin on the old church looks, and then, in a flash, I remembered Wes’s use of the aforementioned siding and the matter was settled. I showed pictures of it to my handler at Poulsen’s, and found that the stuff has to be ordered in, but it will only take a week, so we’re in like Flynn (Did you know that the most commonly held derivation of that phrase refers to Errol Flynn and his proclivity for statutory rape? Ick.).
I’m not at all sure that my skill will be able to keep up with the torrent of decisions to come, however, as the thorny tangle of kitchen and bath await me. With brass knuckles, no less. But watch this: kitchen sink must be double-bowl, stainless steel, drain holes in the back, 8” deep, with three holes on top. Take that, you thorny tangle, you!