Week 4: Slow Electric, Boxes on Boxes

I imagine that the world moves at my pace, and this is just not so.

I began building this house on May 11, and now, less than two months later, the foundations and exterior are fully built, there’s an extra unplanned box on the tongue for batteries, the sleeping loft, storage loft, and bathroom wall are framed out, and both the AC and DC electrical work is largely finished. All that without full-time work. Mostly the house has gone from the foundation up on an every-other-week build schedule, to allow for rest, planning, and other projects on the weeks off. Two months ago, the most substantial construction experience I had came from building a large flower box in my front garden. Not that long ago, I hired out to get hooks and curtain rods installed in my apartment in Beaverton.

But here I am, two months later, picking up a $60 miter saw on Craigslist because the skill saw isn’t precise enough for me. I have a growing collection of high-quality tools that I know how to use and am learning to properly maintain. I feel confident enough in my abilities to make unplanned additions to my house without supervision, and the work I do turns out structurally sound, aesthetically pleasing, and waterproof. I’m very pleased with my growing collection of tools, skills, and confidence. And more than thrilled with my little house.

And yet. Every day where I don’t complete work chafes at me. I want to be done with the electrical and the plumbing, maybe in part because I feel disconnected from it. I know how to cut wood. I want to do more of the wood-cutting part. Floor and interior siding install. Trim work. Cabinetry. Staining. The detailed finish work, the artistic work. I am frustrated at spending so much time on bits and bobs that will all be hidden behind walls…even though I have very specific desires for the systems in my house. I want to be able to be off-grid. I want high quality air filtration. I want three-way switches and dimmable lighting. I want stainless steel finishes. Internal water storage. Multiple methods for heating water, to add resilience and reduce energy usage. All of these hidden systems take so much work — it would be easier to throw a kerosene lantern in there at the end of the day, and call it good.

I have not indulged in balance, or much cost-cutting. I imagine BioSquare as my last house, partially through the virtue of it being movable. I could indulge my millennial wanderlust from time to time, if I so chose. I could grow into the space if I could build the capacity for adaption to change into my space. Some things will need to adapt, in the coming years, though I don’t yet know what. Building in the capacity for adaptation requires careful engineering, multiple systems, complications. It costs, even as delays teach me patience.

Perhaps I should go back to sleeping in debris huts and eating snails. It may be time to reconnect with the wild-See.