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.
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.