We picked a house plan! To say I was excited was an understatement. I was so ready to go see a draftsman to get the plans drawn. After asking around for recommendations for a good draftsman, I decided to use one my friend Leslie suggested. His office is located in Ruston. I will not use his real name because I did not ask permission so we will just call him Mr. Square Foot. It just so happened that the day after I altered the plans to my standards, I had a hair appointment in Ruston with the best stylist and colorist (is that a word?) ever, Donna Berry (that is totally her real name so call her if you need better hair). I gave Mr. Foot a call to see if he could meet after my appointment and he said yes! Going new places alone is not my kind of adventure, so I rang my bestest friend and college roomie, Barbara, to see if she would tag along. "Duh- of course I will!" she said. (Or something along those lines- Sorry, Barb, if i misquoted you, but that is what my mind heard.)
Barb and me earlier this year!
I was feeling good as I drove from West Monroe to Ruston that day. I was feeling so good I opted to get some red in my hair. New house, new lifestyle, why not new hair as well! FYI, red is BRIGHT!!! I felt like my hair started humming Christmas tunes mid- appointment. No worries...it has faded some since then. Thankfully. Anyway, so I picked up Barbara and off we went to meet Mr. Square Foot. As far as first impressions go, I thought he was a nice older gentleman. I am sure he thought I was a crazy redhead. If he didnt think I was off my rocker upon opening the door, I am sure he did by the time I left.
On a side note, why is it that I never get taken seriously? I always thought it was the blonde hair, but I can assure you the blonde wasn't that noticeable after I left the salon. (Disclaimer: My hairdresser did what I asked her to do. I wasn't prepared for the red. I like it now and she is the best!) Maybe I am not taken seriously because I am a woman. I think I am plenty smart, so it can't be that. Maybe I come across as ditzy. I don't know. Whatever, based on my ideas I presented, I am pretty sure Mr. Foot thought I was delusional and immediately started praying for my husband.
That is some scary red hair color!
We all sat around Mr. Foot's farm table and I took out my plan. He took one look at it and said, "You are going to need a full set of stairs." Excuse me? I had already promised Callan a library ladder to her loft! "Yep. That is the building code," he proceeded to say. What is this code he was speaking of? Why do thousands of people have all sorts of ladders to lofts on TV? TELEVISION IS A BIG FAT LIE, Y'ALL!!!
It was about then that my little heart shattered into loads of pieces. You see, I knew what that meant. I know how much room a staircase takes up. I don't think he thought I knew what that meant because he proceeded to tell me exactly how much room it would take up. I am smart, I am sure you know what that meant as well- my tiny house just had a 200 HSF baby named Stair Case.
After Mr. Foot and I discussed a few more things, I paid him a deposit for the plans, packed up my bag, picked up the pieces of my heart, and left. I took Barbara home and I am almost positive I then picked up queso to eat at home because we all know queso is the glue that mends broken hearts.
Once I arrived home, I plopped onto the couch to mend my heart (with the aforementioned queso) and I started researching why we needed a staircase to the lofts. I did learn that in some states and counties there is no building code that is enforced which is why some tiny houses can just have ladders. Of course our area would have an enforced code. I still am convinced there is a way around a full staircase, but at this point I haven't met anyone named Mr. Loop Hole.
A few days later, Mr. Foot called to tell me he had the preliminary plans drawn up. Hooray! My heart had begun to heal (turns out the cream filling in Oreos also helps heal broken hearts) and I had accepted the whole staircase idea. Matt drove to pick up the plans. We unrolled them and were quite surprised. This was going to be interesting. And my clothes were about to start fitting a little tighter.
I am Chamie, wife to Matt; mom to Callan (14), Cooper (11), and