All along, I knew this would happen. I knew at some point we’d hit the wall.
I knew that the lusty fun of building a dream would slowly succumb to the reality of getting to pay for it and having to see it through to the end.
Shits like that.
Dreams at inception are magical elfin little things dancing around on the periphery, seductively luring you into stuff that the long haul slowly grinds into something you end up hating.
I knew this was gonna happen.
The truly fun way to build would be having enough money to pay everybody from architects to contractors to finishers and designers to build your little dream and paint and stock it with freshy goodness and let you walk into your squeaky new little house beaming broadly with the huge happiness that comes from not having had to work on any of it.
But that ain’t a happenin’ thing at Casa Oceandoggy.
Phabulious Phil and his crew are just about done and the house will be dried in-meaning the siding, the roof, and the windows and doors will be on or in. Rough shelter. You could live in it if you didn’t need running water or heat or toilets. Think plywood tent. Think trailer on fuck me pumps.
And then it’s just me to finish this baby.
Having spent 50K by dry in we’re approaching budget limits that let Miss Carol scream at me almost constantly, which is always nice.
I look up at it and think about the countless hours of my life I’m gonna spend getting it done and I wonder what the fuck I was thinking? I don’t have enough to do keeping my business afloat, writing a crappy blog, and trying to write a book?
And now I’m gonna spend every weekend for the rest of my life working on Casa Oceandoggy?
Yaaa, dreams are kinda like that; I agree. But maybe if you just start thinking one day at a time and not overwhelm yourself with looking at the long haul….you know, one day, one room, or even one part of one room…. and remember Brey would love to help. Oh, and maybe you could start on my room, first? Heheheheeeeee!
You might have something there.
This weekend I was going to do the electrical rough-in for the whole house but maybe I’ll just concentrate on one outlet.
Of course I have never built a house myself, but if it were me ~ first order of business….toilets.
Amen to that.
Ah. You just reminded me, I haven’t heard back from the plumber yet.
Look at it this way – at least you are “living the dream” unlike the rest of us poor SOBs.
Yeah, I know.
It just helps to bitch and moan sometimes.
Ah, I have been waiting for this. Writing a blog (a damn good one), writing a book (that I already can’t wait to buy), building your dream house… LIFE IS GOOD, BABY.
Stephanie, you just made my whole day.
You can always start selling your body for extra cash. You could have that baby finished in no time!
Ooh baby, baby, I hadn’t thought of that.
DO NOT give up hope now!!! You’re so close. And you like working with your hands! You’re good at it! You’re probably great at it! Soon the weather will be consistently not shitty and you’ll have more time to focus on the house and thing of the sense of accomplishment you’ll get when it’s YOU who’s gettin’ it done. It’ll be AMAZING. Because it’ll be yours. And yeah, it’ll probably take a long ass time before you’re done and once you’re done you’ll probably have to start fixing things but WHATEVER. It’ll be YOURS.
Bridget, you are the best.
Nah, I’m not giving up. I just get tired of it sometimes.
And then Miss Carol prods me with the shotgun and I’m right back on it.