Drum roll please…

The city has approved our plans and handed over building permits which means it’s now safe to show the house to you!

In the posts below this one, you can read about a few of the hoops we had to jump through to get this project approved.  Wind Bracing, Environmental Impact, and Heat Loss/Heat Gain Studies are just a few examples, but there was one city issue that could’ve changed the whole look of the house. You see, they didn’t “like” the pitch of our roof – for clarification, the powers-that-be approved the completely flat roofs, they just wanted the top roof changed to a steeper pitch.

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A hole in the wall.

For the past few weeks we’ve been waiting for the house design to pass Energy Compliance. This step is different from the other environmental impact studies we’ve already been through. A Certified Green Building Engineer handles this part of the project. If you’re looking for a new occupation, I highly recommend going back to school to become a Professional Engineer with certification in Energy Management and Green Building. These people are in high demand.

I find all this energy compliance stuff sorta funny considering the house we currently live in has a literal hole in its wall. Built in 1929, this house has a mail slot that goes from the front porch right through the wall and drops the mail straight to the living room floor – the door-flap meant to hold the mail in place gave up its job about forty years ago. I do my best to stanch the flow of cold air-conditioned air being sucked out of the house, but there’s only so much a wadded-up t-shirt can do. On particularly hot summer days, solicitors have been known to hang around the front door far longer than needed to read the “No Soliciting” sign. The blast of cold air flowing from that mail slot might have something to do with their loitering ways.

mail slot

To add insult to injury, we live on particularly flexible soil so the house and its pier and beam foundation have essentially ridden a roller coaster over the last eighty-four years, which means this house is full of cracks that rival the Grand Canyon. There are neither enough wadded up t-shirts nor enough cans of spray foam insulation to shore up this house.

I love the home we’re in now. I think the tiny footprints that lead to our front porch – and the note that named the owner of those little feet – are fantastic. I love that my child grew up in this house. I adore my neighbors. I’m grateful we now have central heat and air. I’m thankful we replaced the original electrical wiring (wrapped in linen!) with modern wiring encased in insulation and conduit (hooray for fire retardation!). But energy efficient this house is not. I’d like to see what Mr. Certified Energy Management Engineer would say about this place.

alfred

Nothing but the kitchen sink (so far).

kitchen sink

We’re starting to order parts and pieces for the new house as we come across exceptionally good online deals from reputable companies. A great way to save some moola? Possibly. But it’s also chancy to buy some big-ish ticket items sight unseen. The restocking fees are often jaw-droppingly high too. I’m fully expecting an anxiety filled adrenaline rush with each purchase until the boxes are unpacked and manhandled for quality and usability.

Right now the kitchen sink for the new house is resting comfortably in a bedroom at the old house. This doesn’t feel right to me – it’s as if we’re courting a new mistress with lovely gifts right under the nose of a faithful spouse. I’ve gotta get over anthropomorphizing this old house soon or risk being a guilty wreck until we move.

Typographical Errors and Topographical Surveys

This week was moderately stressful. We were told the foundation of the yet-to-be-built-house must be 586 feet above sea level. The land on which we plan to build is 540 feet above sea level. That’s a difference of almost fifty-freakin’ feet! That’s sixteen feet higher than the house on the hill across the street from us. Here’s an accurate artistic representation of what I imagine a house at 586 feet above sea level might look like:

house on stilts

After wearing my fingernails down to proper nubs, we learned it was just a typo – the requirement is only 536 feet above sea level.

So that’s good news.

On the not-so-good-news front, we still don’t have building permits from the city. Now they want a topographical survey of the land. This will take weeks to accomplish. On the upside, we’ll be able to use this survey to better plan future landscaping and outdoor spaces (but that only helps if we ever get to build this freakin’ house).

Fee Fi Fo Fum

We paid fees last week. Who knew you had to buy a water meter? Sure, they’re attached to almost every house in the U.S. – but did you ever think about who shelled out the cash to put ‘em there? Now we know.

Here’s a partial list of fees to pay before building permits are granted:

Water Impact Fee – $840

Sewer Impact Fee – $665

Water Meter – $176

Roadway Impact Fee – $670

Parks Linear Development – $536

Parks Neighborhood Development – $643

At a cost of $1179, it’s guaranteed that I will wear a linear path between the house and the closest neighborhood park.

Erosion of Sanity

The title to this post is a little misleading (and possibly a teeny bit overdramatic). My sanity hasn’t really started eroding – at least not yet. Check back in six months and I might tell you another story. But I’m not one to miss a chance at clever (and possibly a teeny bit overdramatic) wordplay.

Here’s where things stand: We must provide more environmental impact studies before the city will issue building permits. Specifically, they’ve requested erosion control drawings from the architect. He says this is a typical request for commercial projects that are larger than one acre. We are not a commercial property on a large expanse of land, but apparently we are special. Hooray.

Now I’m looking more closely at our neighboring lots. I’m hopeful the house across the street had to go through this erosion control exercise too.

soil erosion

Holding Pattern

It’s been several months since the last update, and while it feels as if we’ve been in a holding pattern this whole time, a lot has happened behind the scenes. We finalized the house design with the architect and builder, we finished clearing the thicket around the ‘cement pond’, and we secured the construction loan that will fund this little project.

Now we’re waiting for building permits. The city has asked for additional information – a wind bracing study and something along the lines of a heat gain/heat loss environmental energy study. I can’t help but think of the story of the three little pigs and the big bad wolf.

Wind Bracing Study

(wind bracing study?)

The downing of the tree house.

 photo treehousefelled_zpsfbe7c0e1.jpg

Years ago, a boy in the 8th grade built this tree house for his little sister. The sister and other neighborhood kids enjoyed it for a while, but kiddos grow and their needs change, so it sat neglected for a long time. For safety – and according to my husband, aesthetic – reasons it needed to come down. Trouble is, 8th grade boys use A LOT of nails. What we expected to be a 10 minute job took well over an hour.

I took Photo 1 after my husband and father-in-law pulled the support leg out from under the house. We expected the whole thing to fall immediately, but it laughed at us and stayed firmly in place.

About an hour passed between Photo 1 and Photo 2. There are no pictures during this time because it’s impossible to operate a camera when your face is buried deep into the crook of your arm. The men folk – an engineer and a carpenter – knew exactly what they were doing, but ladders and chainsaws don’t mix in my mind so I couldn’t watch any of it.

Finally, after what looked like a Cirque du Soleil show performed with power tools and denim pants (Okay, it didn’t really look like that I don’t think. But what would I know? My face was buried in my arm…) the tree house toppled.

I like connections to the past, so the downing of the tree house saddened my heart a bit. Then we started the process of removing all the @$%*ing nails from the 2’x4’s so my father-in-law could recycle the wood for a different project. That snapped me out of my funk pretty quickly.

At one point, I envisioned a new tree house in its place. Something for our friends’ children – or maybe grandchildren, one day – to play in. After all the work that went into taking this tree house down, I think the kiddos in our future will have to make-do with a tee-pee instead.