Remember a few weeks ago when I mentioned that job I was on where the general said the inspector could "bite him"? Apparently, he did. I got a panicked call yesterday that the patio cover was too low, by about a few inches. Now, I had called the guy before I installed it to tell him that there would be an issue with the height, and that's when he said "height is not an issue on this job" and "the inspector can bite me". So I went ahead and built it. But there were issues, and there was biting. Today I am tearing it all down, and then building it again, a few inches higher.

I'm trying not to get upset about this. There are other things I was going to do today, like watch the kids as Mrs. Ditchman went on some estimates, and maybe clean my desk, or the garage. But now I have to go out and re-live last Tuesday, which wasn't the greatest day ever, and not one high on my days-in-life-to-re-live list. Oh, well. If this is the karmatic price I have to pay for having such beautiful children, a loving wife, a fine home, and good health, then I will pay it cheerfully (or at least give it my best shot.)

The job I'm on is a whole-house remodel for a quadriplegic war vet. He's having this elaborate motorized crane system installed in his house that will move him in and out of the bath, among other things, and then granite countertops, jacuzzi tubs, hardwood floors, elastomeric house coating, new roof, windows, and all the other home-and-garden trimmings you can think of. It will be bitchin'. His next door neighbor's house, meanwhile, burned down because they were growing pot and it got out of control. Different worlds, equal work for contractors.

The disabled vet is also getting a terrific aluminum patio cover in the backyard, with a full 88 inches to the ceiling, and exactly 80 inches to the bottom of the header. My God, it will be beautiful. Again.


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