A cat by any other name

Home, sweet fuse box



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Meow to me

We've not done much visiting of the house site lately because in the evenings it's just too dark and foggy to see much, and even if we do sort of angle the car so it's up on the curb with the headlights shining, there's enough ditches and other things on the lot that we could fall into or on that we really haven't done much more than drive by, peer at the interesting piles of dirt, and vow to come back someday when the sun is shining.

So Saturday before we headed down to spend the weekend with his family, Richard and I drove by the lot, armed with digital camera, to record the existence of our very own subfloor.

It's not even remotely what I expected. I heard 'subfloor' and pictured some sort of flat thing, balancing on those obscure little cement posts that were scattered all over the ground inside the ring of foundation where our house is to be. But no, this thing looks sort of like a cubicle maze for really short, skinny people, with curious pipes and hoses popping up here and there.

I tossed together a quick page with the pictures we've taken so far. If you want to have the endless thrill of following along on my little house-building adventure, check out the progress so far. You, too, can thrill to the view of trenches at dusk. Peer into the cube maze and try to figure out which pipes go to which bathroom. Share our excitement at having our very own fuse box. Hey. It is exciting. Trust me. Quit snickering.

Our general contractor came by tonight with a few catalogs of front doors because - well, I bet you can't guess what our next big decision has to be, hmm? Front doors are far more expensive than you might imagine. I'm not talking about the boring old metal doors you find on college rentals, or the hollow doors inside between rooms. I'm talking about solid wooden doors with gorgeously detailed windows and frames, with prices that were much better left hidden. He took me by surprise way back when we first sat down and came up with a budget, for how much he'd set aside for the front door. I can see now that he really wasn't kidding. Eek.

Richard and I sat down and looked at the selection, then picked one out. True to form, we both managed to pick exactly the same door. It's that shared brain cell thing, see.

When he came by to drop off the door catalogs, our contractor mentioned a few tidbits of information. The best one was when he said that he thinks they'll be all done building by March. That's only four more months. Woo! He also told us, however, that our neighbors-to-be are asking about us, and are curious. This does not surprise me that they're curious - although over the past five months we've been out there tromping around on the lot we have yet to meet one of them. However, it has started to make me think of all sorts of evil little things we could do, just to make the new neighbors wonder. Perhaps start moving some of the gargoyles in early. Borrow a drum set from someone with a surly teenage boy and have him move it into the garage. Drive up and park a van painted with flames and 'Free Love' on the side.

Ah, the possibilities...