Shutterfly rhymes with flutterby
I've been researching online photo sales sites, and tonight chose Shutterfly. This has nothing to do with renovations, and instead has everything to do with my real job, being a full-time photographer. While I'm not renovating. But it turns out I've not been renovating. So I've had time to do online research.
Three weeks ago, the building inspector told us that we needed to have a plan done by an architect before he'd give us the go-ahead for building a second-floor bath. That was very reasonable. The only architect who ever called Brian back turned out to be a fellow who lives in an 1820's house they've been renovating for about a decade. He came over and chatted with us for a couple hours, at $125 an hour. An expensive chat, but it felt worthwhile. A lot of good tidbits.
A couple of weeks later, with the contract signed for them to come over and look at the place and draw a plan for us, we start wondering if they're ever going to come over and look at the place. We call, find out there's actually quite a long wait ahead of us, and manage somehow to convince the architect's assistant that our carrying 5 gallon buckets of water up the basement stairs with which to flush the toilet and putting out a specialized bag in the afternoon sun with which to take showers - that putting all that behind us depends on him. They schedule a visit and the architect's assistant comes over with his architect's assistant's assistant, and they're dressed well. They're kind of surprised that the house is in disarray - that the house is, in fact, completely torn apart. The architect's assistant finally understands our haste.
We're promised plans within a short time span - say, 2 to 3 weeks. We get it down to 2 weeks, seeing as all's depending on them for the bathroom moving forward. Because in fact, we can't do anything with the plumbing for the first floor bath til the ceiling joists have been planned, drawn, and transformed. The plumber is going to run the plumbing over the ceiling because it's an uninsulated crawl space below the kitchen floor. And needs to wait for the ceiling joists to be in place before he can drill and/or attach his copper pipes. Makes sense.
And so we wait. And 2 weeks rolls around, with no plans. We get a promise for the following week. Meanwhile, we've unscheduled the plumber, whose roster is filling up with other homeowners who can use his services right away.
At last, the plans arrive. We head to the 1820's renovated home to pick up the plans, we're given a run-through which begins with "Tell the contractor to -" and we stop him there. Let the architect's assistant know that, when we told him we'd be doing all the work ourselves, we actually really meant it, and would need to know exactly what to do with their plans. They did their best to educate us, and I'm glad. I learned about Simpson Strong Tie (a ubiquitous joist hanger) and Versalam (a laminate composite that's stronger than regular wood).
We set out to find said versalam, because we were told that nothing else would do. After very little success, we ask for advice and once again ask if there's anything we can use besides the Versalam. We're pointed toward a lumber yard nearby. At the lumber yard, a fascinating series of backpedals happens. The man behind the counter declares that he doesn't like our plans, shows us the flaws, tells us that other laminates will do, then refuses to sell us another laminate because if he does and the house falls down, then he's liable, rather than the architect. We ask for the Versalam so that the architect can remain liable, since we're doing what the architect told us to do. Where previously Versalam seemed to be available, it was now only available if we bought it by the thousand.
The man was not going to sell us anything that had to do with our sub-par plans, because he didn't want to be involved in a project that he thinks will fail!
Our house is going to fall down if we shore it up!
So we're stuck in a jam, waiting for a contractor friend to come back from vacation so we can run the plans by him, get a second opinion, and if it's similar to the lumber yard, I guess we'll bring the plans back to the architect and tell them they've made a dud.
That's why we've not been renovating and I've had time to be a professional photographer. We're stuck with time flying by and the most important project inaccessible. I'll call this a trough in the roller-coaster ride, and hope that we're headed for a peak again soon.
Three weeks ago, the building inspector told us that we needed to have a plan done by an architect before he'd give us the go-ahead for building a second-floor bath. That was very reasonable. The only architect who ever called Brian back turned out to be a fellow who lives in an 1820's house they've been renovating for about a decade. He came over and chatted with us for a couple hours, at $125 an hour. An expensive chat, but it felt worthwhile. A lot of good tidbits.
A couple of weeks later, with the contract signed for them to come over and look at the place and draw a plan for us, we start wondering if they're ever going to come over and look at the place. We call, find out there's actually quite a long wait ahead of us, and manage somehow to convince the architect's assistant that our carrying 5 gallon buckets of water up the basement stairs with which to flush the toilet and putting out a specialized bag in the afternoon sun with which to take showers - that putting all that behind us depends on him. They schedule a visit and the architect's assistant comes over with his architect's assistant's assistant, and they're dressed well. They're kind of surprised that the house is in disarray - that the house is, in fact, completely torn apart. The architect's assistant finally understands our haste.
We're promised plans within a short time span - say, 2 to 3 weeks. We get it down to 2 weeks, seeing as all's depending on them for the bathroom moving forward. Because in fact, we can't do anything with the plumbing for the first floor bath til the ceiling joists have been planned, drawn, and transformed. The plumber is going to run the plumbing over the ceiling because it's an uninsulated crawl space below the kitchen floor. And needs to wait for the ceiling joists to be in place before he can drill and/or attach his copper pipes. Makes sense.
And so we wait. And 2 weeks rolls around, with no plans. We get a promise for the following week. Meanwhile, we've unscheduled the plumber, whose roster is filling up with other homeowners who can use his services right away.
At last, the plans arrive. We head to the 1820's renovated home to pick up the plans, we're given a run-through which begins with "Tell the contractor to -" and we stop him there. Let the architect's assistant know that, when we told him we'd be doing all the work ourselves, we actually really meant it, and would need to know exactly what to do with their plans. They did their best to educate us, and I'm glad. I learned about Simpson Strong Tie (a ubiquitous joist hanger) and Versalam (a laminate composite that's stronger than regular wood).
We set out to find said versalam, because we were told that nothing else would do. After very little success, we ask for advice and once again ask if there's anything we can use besides the Versalam. We're pointed toward a lumber yard nearby. At the lumber yard, a fascinating series of backpedals happens. The man behind the counter declares that he doesn't like our plans, shows us the flaws, tells us that other laminates will do, then refuses to sell us another laminate because if he does and the house falls down, then he's liable, rather than the architect. We ask for the Versalam so that the architect can remain liable, since we're doing what the architect told us to do. Where previously Versalam seemed to be available, it was now only available if we bought it by the thousand.
The man was not going to sell us anything that had to do with our sub-par plans, because he didn't want to be involved in a project that he thinks will fail!
Our house is going to fall down if we shore it up!
So we're stuck in a jam, waiting for a contractor friend to come back from vacation so we can run the plans by him, get a second opinion, and if it's similar to the lumber yard, I guess we'll bring the plans back to the architect and tell them they've made a dud.
That's why we've not been renovating and I've had time to be a professional photographer. We're stuck with time flying by and the most important project inaccessible. I'll call this a trough in the roller-coaster ride, and hope that we're headed for a peak again soon.
posted by Meghan Moore at 12:38 AM
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