So we pulled up an hour before the etat des lieu exactly one week later. The house was still full of work men pointing fingers at each other but it looked better then the week before - probably thanks to the 47 page document of ‘things to do’ I had drawn up after last weeks disasterous meeting.
After 4 hours of going over every detail with the architect (and I realised I could really get sucked into every detail - to the point where I wonder if I will ever exit macro lense vision mode again) we signed off on the house!
The architect made us sign the 7 pages of things to finalise (better then signing 47 from the week before) and symbolically took out a box with a new lock and key. He then changed it right before our eyes and handed us the keys to our new home!
It was the end of 2 years of working together and there had been times I had gotten so angry with his lack of management that I felt I was a different person. It taught me a lot on how being nice makes you friends but it doesn’t get a good paint job done. We shook hands and he ducked out into the night leaving stu and I looking at each other and our empty grown up home.
A few minutes later the doorbell rang and the project manager re-appeared outside with a bottle of champagne. I initially ducked thinking it could be a Molotov Cocktail but then when he handed it to me instead of lobbing it over my head I realised it was his way of making amends to a relationship which had been otherwise quite strained
We exchanged a few niceties, I even told him I would build again which made his eyes roll into the back of his head in panic before offering an excuse about having left the iron on at home and just having to get back.
The door shut and stu and I jumped around like little kids in a sweet shop. Grown up on the outside, infantile on the inside.
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