Two out of three: Final inspections

Today is a big day for the Casa de Roo remodel. From Friday through Monday, we made a push not unlike cramming for finals—final inspections.

Preparations for this day actually began well over a year ago. Matt dropped off the permit application on June 6, 2008. It was approved on July 17 and we picked it up on July 18.

Since then, we have proudly displayed the permit in our window. Well, first our non-closing, bang-your-head-as-you-walk-by bay window (there was one facing the old deck, too) and now our beautiful, energy-efficient Anderson window.

A new roof not only provides what curb appeal you can get with a below-street-level house, it keeps out the rain and reflects away the heat of the sun.

When Dennis from the township arrived before 11 a.m., the shower door installer was already hard at work. We got approval for the building—with one verbal warning: fix the furnace flue pipe before winter. Dennis was the person who told our contractor to ground the metal roof against lightning strikes—something that hadn’t occurred to any of us, including both so-called architects.

Dennis inspected—and really liked—our new deck. It is quite an improvement over what we had before.

Next came the electrical inspection. We failed one element. Willie the electrician did not put in a GFI switch to protect the hot tub. Matt believes the ground fault interrupter, designed to protect against electrical shock by interrupting a household circuit, is actually within the hot tub control box, which the inspector did not open. If it is not, this is an error so insanely stupid even the shower door installer was shocked. In either case, we’ve asked the inspector to return on Friday.

And finally, the plumbing inspection. We passed, despite a poorly formed shower pan that doesn’t drain. We discovered this issue on Monday, so I made a Target run for a squeegee on Tuesday. I vowed we’d use the squeegee every time we showered.

The plumbing inspector complimented the home improvements, particularly our choice to modernize the house while remaining true to its ranch style.

Grout grouch

I spent most of last Saturday not like a biped (Lucy), but like a quadruped (Ida).

“At least I am an Anthropoid,” I thought as I put another screw through the HardieBacker™.

“Arthropod,” insisted Matt, citing my exoskeleton as proof.

I was fine with shifting species; humans were letting me down. The electrician was to finish his punch list items on Friday, June 5. He did not show up. The bathroom was also to be completed that Friday. A different guy than the plumber on the permit showed up, told Matt that the job was all wrong, said something about needing to open up (A.K.A. destroy) part of the bathroom to fix it… and then he left with a promise to show up to do the work at 8 a.m. on June 6. He did not.

And our secondary contractor, Alex, sent Matt what amounted to an “F U” e-mail when he asked, “Where is everyone? And, by the way, where are our window screens?”

So I felt quite screwed while crawling around on all fours as we prepped for tiling the “hotel suite / mud room” we are creating downstairs. Matt cut the tile backer to fit, I fastened it to the sub-floor. We vacuumed and mopped the surface to accept the metal tape, securing the wire for the WarmGlo electric radiant heat system.

It wasn’t a pretty site, as I alternated tears with quoting lines from Coolio’s “Gangster’s Paradise,” particularly:

But I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
You better watch how you talkin’, and where you walkin’
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk

Matt saw it was time to quit for the day, and took me for a mid-afternoon boat ride and then put me down for a nap.

Sunday, Matt spent the day—a good nine hours—alternating between being on the floor to using the tile cutter to fit the 15 3/4” black tiles around two metal poles and to nuzzle against the curved wall. I assisted. We worked about 10 hours, including my two trips to Home Depot to get $250 more pre-mixed thin-set.

Alex stopped by that morning to negotiate the terms of an amicable divorce. He will complete some items and give us responsibility for others. While it might end up being a wash financially, I’d like to think our time is worth something. What I care about most, however, is seeing the renovation process come to an end. [For context, this is my 100th blog entry since September 2006.]

As we spent this morning downstairs on our hands and knees, I mused, “What had we done during weekends prior to this renovation?” We reminisced about seeing plays in New York City and taking joy rides on the Vespa.

After a mere four hours of Matt putting pre-mixed grout between our “Tweed” tiles and me wiping them down, we were done. The last section of floor for this house was basically complete!

Then Matt saw my chafed knees during our lunch break. “You are shedding your exoskeleton,” he exclaimed. So, it turns out he is correct: I am a moulting member of the largest phylum in the animal kingdom—but at least I am an arthropod with a beautifully tiled floor.