Busta plans now, huh huh, gotta have it

Sometimes you have to relativiser, after a good long "Noooooooooooooooooo."

I don't cry anymore. Like ever. A beloved pet or human would have to die before I cry again. Over plans? No way. That's one thing that moving to France taught me, the fine art of relativiser. The French have everything in perspective, except when they are indulging in massive histrionics. It's one or the other really. Some aren't above manipulation of others, while the art of the manipulation of the self is raised to heights all of us should wish to attain, for others' comfort, along with that of tying the perfect scarf knot. The nec plus ultra being the sassy small scarf, tied around the neck and framed by a sensational blouse collar. OMG. I ache to be able to pull off that look.

Anyway, I have parfaitement relativisé the multiple (it turns out) things I messed up and/or assumed were just fine in my excitement to wrap my plans up, and I did not give up. No way am I giving up. What do they say? Where there's a will, there's a way? Yes, there is. And like the gym walls instructed me in elementary school, When the going gets tough, the tough get stronger. I am the tough. Who knew? I certainly didn't feel that way back then, but I guess I was pretty badass. That's what Birdy said when she looked at my 6th grade class photo the other day. I saw angry and depressed, but badass is so much better. I am no whiny bitch.

I sharpened my determination and got badass.

So, how come? It's complicated, but, in short, first I discovered that I had attributed about 12.5 centimeters in width to an already very narrow building. This is catastrophic, but it was also a fact. Deal with it.

Thank God I went out and checked one more time, just to be absolutely certain because this is a Golden Rule of construction, never to be messed with, ever: never carry wishful thinking into bids and construction. You have to know your plans are as close to absolutely and divinely right as is humanly possible, and you have anticipated every last issue, or you are to pay and pay in cash money. All of the consequences of those missing 12.5 centimeters cascaded through my head, like those numbers on old adding machines that turn and turn until one by one they fall into the result.

That result was that the other end of the building, which was absolutely and very definitely 336.5 cm wide, is not, outside to outside face of concrete block.

The worst of these consequences would be on the stair wall location, making even the Japanese stair for tiny houses unrealistic, short a brilliant and complicated solution (cash money).

The other was headroom under the sloping roof at the mezzanine level.

And, the problem with the Japanese stair and the wall behind it was further complicated by the location of the heat pump unit (Awesome. Hitachi, high temperature) and all the very beautifully wrought copper pipe connections to the existing underground radiator pipes for the house. I can hear them breaking out in their best Busta Rhymes, Don't touch me now. The guys who work with him are in awe of his work. Orfèvrerie they called it. We paid cash money for those. Not touching them now. Unh hunh. Not now. Huh huh, huh-huh.

So, check it out, I think I found a solution now 'cause it's my duty now. It's some real shit, now.

Hunh huh. Huh huh, huh-huh.

I sat down and I thought, and I sketched, and I came up with alternatives, and I balled them up, and I drew some more, and I thought, and I said oh shit! Hey hey hey let's go, and I won't ever stop. I'm trying to keep up with the pace because I GOTTA HAVE IT. Oh shit!

O-M-G.

Here we go. Violence.
Steady on the left.
Hey y'all, calm down.
Steady on the right.
Hey y'all, calm down.

I am pumped. I got this 'cause I gotta have this.

So, I am back at the drawing board, and I'm gonna make this work now.

....