SOMEthing is done.
I know it’s only a small cog in a much bigger wheel, a tiny part of the larger whole, but it’s done and I never have to work on it again.
By it, I mean the outside stairs. The deck isn’t done and the railings aren’t installed but the steps themselves are DONE, baby.
Woo-Hoo. The Little House of Horrors has steps. No more humping shit up a ladder.
I rest my weary head in my exhausted arms and weep.
Until Phabulous Phil and his crew arrive to install the front door and the windows.
As he’s walking up my newly finished, slightly cherished stairs, he checks the tread overhang with a tape measure he’s carrying.
Inspector Dickhead’s gonna ping you on the treads he says.
You gotta have 3/4″ overhang and you only have 5/8″. Sorry dude he says and keeps going up to the stairs.
I stare up at what my life has become for a long, long, time.