Builders make me feel very inadequate and uncomfortable. They are everything in a man that I am not. I feel them looking at me and thinking, "Pathetic". So I am taking this week off, and feel like a prisoner inside my own home, as the place is crawling with all of these testaments to masculinity while I try to hide behind my laptop, the only power tool I feel at all comfortable being within 20 feet of.
The surveyor returned yesterday, day 6, to map out where the footings will go in the two places where we are extending the existing house. Naturally, we were curious to have a good look ourselves, and imagine what it will be like when the new rooms have been built. The clever thing about optical illusions is that they can even fool the experts. Looking at the lines mapping out the new family room, I was convinced that there must be some mistake, and that what had been mapped out may be big enough for a doll's house but not for a family of four actual living human beings. Adrienne was also convinced something had gone wrong. but, wielding a set of plans and a tape measure, she was able to prove that the space in the dirt is exactly the same width as our existing living room, which is big enough (just) to house two couches, a large dining table, a piano, a television, a computer desk, a Japanese dresser, Jules's ten thousand marbles, and more pieces of Lego than you thought existed in the world. I still don't believe my own eyes, but Adrienne's tape measure never lies, so I'll just be quiet now.
Yesterday also posed a significant test of my ability to meet Adrienne's iPod challenge (see earlier post in this series). We knew that the side fence sits about half a metre our side of the actual property boundary. We thought we were building the carport up to a whisker of the fence, but well in from the boundary. It turns out that the plans that were approved by Planning (and agreed to by the neighbours) have the carport going up to within a whisker, not of the fence, but of the title boundary, thus taking in one timber lattice fence, one steel fence and three of the neighbours' rose bushes. Did I panic? Only on the inside. But boy did I panic on the inside. Adrienne very bravely faced off against the neighbours last night, and it turns out that they seem not to care less, and even offered to take away the steel fence and relocate their precious roses themselves. Each crisis that has been thrown up at us thus far has (a) been more serious than the last; and (b) come to nothing. Will I learn a lesson from this? Wait until the next crisis to find out, but the likely answer is "No".
Moving to today, the Bobcat man returned to dig long deep channels around the back yard, where the footings will go. Today's crisis was not of our making, and in fact we wouldn't have known about it at all except we the water to the house had to be disconnected for a while. The Bobcat man had dug through the sewer outlet outside our kitchen. Twice. I didn't panic. Everyone is very proud of me. For now.
