The red chapeau

posted in: Tiny house | 0

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Mornings have gotten foggy and cold now. While there is still wet dew on dawn surfaces, fall is threatening to turn it into frost. I dread the day…
My joints are not as sprightly as they used to be, which may be surprising at my age, but building houses 8 to 10 hours a day, every day, does take its toll apparently. Climbing up and down ladders, freaking out 10 feet high because the leverage I need to drive a screw in will actually push the ladder off its feet, and down into the rocky ditch by the rail tracks. Not a soft landing at all… Moving plywood around between three cutting areas, as needed, with a paperclip grip that will seemingly render my wrists unusable after 8 pm, and both hands swollen to the point at which I’m expecting the skin to split. All. Night. Long. It all gets better again by mid-morning of course. I don’t even feel the stiffness in my knees as I work. It comes out to ruin my life at night. I once tried to take a day off and see if that helps the joint situation at all. One day off did not do it. Maybe I’ll try a week next time, sometime in November perhaps…

Oh, I needed that, the way any old woman needs her moment of complaint (I’m thinking of you grandma!) But really this is all new to me and interesting in the way new things are. I’m sure people over 40 will roll their eyes and scoff at me. I’m okay with that. All that trouble has earned me quite a bit of a treat though. Today I cut out all the window openings, so I’m basically ready to wrap 3 of 4 walls in vapor barrier, and install my windows! Also, and of more aesthetic impact, I installed my metal roof, and – wait for it – it’s RED! Even the screws are red!

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I wanted a red roof because it reminds me of eastern Europe, and because it is the quintessential roof from children’s stories. Because I’m building a dream as well as a real house, all designed to fit my height, and arm span, the length of my unusually long torso as I sit by the window, my weight as I walk on top of my suspended second floor (first floor is actually the basement, as I must always explain), and any other odd preferences I might muster as I begin to think about the skin my house will show.

I’m so excited and very very tired, but I don’t really care, unless I have to move, and then only for a moment, because I remember how awesome it is to be working on my house! Bliss.

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