Midnight Mutterings | The shed

||| MIDNIGHT MUTTERINGS by JACKIE BATES |||

Time goes so fast and moving house goes so slowly. (I use the term ‘moving house’ in the literal sense here. I wrote two weeks ago about my efforts to move an existing house from the place it was built and lived in for decades to the small lot in Bellingham I bought several years ago—not in the New Zealand term of moving stuff from one house to another. This is different from moving a new, modular house. And, apparently, more complicated. I think I wrote earlier that there are several houses on Orcas Island moved from off island by Nickel Brothers, and at least one house moved from its original spot near the school to another place here on the island.

At this point, the house that will eventually move to the small lot next to the cats and my son (not necessarily in that order of affection and importance) is in storage on the Bellingham waterfront. The house is somewhat indisposed, missing its ‘front,’ from when the attached garage, fireplace and chimney were removed for the move. A nice front porch will be added after the house arrives at its finally resting place, should that ever happen. Eventually. (The Bellingham lot is skinny, and the ‘new’ house will be placed with its original front facing our other house next door. If you can’t follow this, please know I can’t do so easily myself.)

Meanwhile, the shed: My son’s house next door came with a small shed in the tiny back yard. The failing roof was replaced right away, but we never got around to rebuilding the shed and evicting the rats and whatever was stored there. Somehow, now seemed to be a good time to rebuild and we had the builder to do so. The one who would replace the open wound on the ‘new’ house with a porch. Using the same footprint for the shed meant we didn’t need a permit. (But we could have used a plan.) My assumption is that it would just be rebuilt on the existing pier blocks, maybe moving the door and adding a window or so.

Well, that’s not what happened. While the new shed has the same footprint, there were multiple misunderstandings, the kind that come from telephone conversations, not drawings. The result is the Taj Mahal of sheds. Nothing like what I had so clearly in my head. Ridiculously expensive and tall, it’s not particularly useful as a storage shed or the world’s smallest ADU, with electricity, minimal plumbing and a sleeping loft too high for anyone who isn’t a monkey or a cat. The builder, who supplied many materials as well as ideas and experience, and I didn’t communicate very well and my son, as go between, had the worst job of all, trying to explain what was going on and what was expected. I was mostly on Orcas doing whatever seemed more important at the moment.

The shed is tall. It’s red, with charcoal trim. It has a wonderful steel roof. It has TWO multi-paned doors. It has a little sink. It has cold running water. It has a lot of outlets. It has lights and switches and a cute outdoor light. It has a nice floor, a window with screen. And not much room for storage or living. Perhaps the cats will move in.

For now, the cats seem disappointed. They have spent most of their young lives sitting in the two small kitchen windows, planning what they will do to the birds, squirrels and especially crows, if they can only escape the house. I don’t think they have any idea what a crow or two has to offer an overachieving cat. Now, though, the giant cats sit on the narrow window sills and stare at the big, red shed. They turn and look at us in profound disappointment and back at the shed. Their eyes say loudly, ‘What have you done? What’s that? Why can’t we see the birds, the squirrels? The low, rotten shed?’

Those four accusing cat eyes tell me everything I need to know about adding a porch to the front of a house moved from Kirkland to Bellingham. I’ll have plans. I’ll have my eyes where they belong during the building process. The builder and I will work together, make sure we understand each other and the plan, use his impressive ideas and skills to make the best possible glassed front porch, facing south.

And, most important, we’ll make sure the gallon of new, red paint, has its lid securely attached before we put it in the back seat of my new-to-me electric car, before driving away from the store. But that’s another story.