In which my castle arrives and we are all surprised

I want to begin by saying that I did not take the easy way out. Yes, I bought a pre-built cabin shell. And yes, it was delivered straight to my site with virtually no work on my part. HOWEVER, a great deal of stress concerning a confusion about the size of the upstairs windows

Me: I want the 3x3s in the lofts.

Them: Ok. That's 30 bucks extra.

Me: Ok.

Them, the next week: They called and said those won't fit.

Me: Oh. That's ok. 2x3s are fine.

Them: I had to cancel the order and you have to come back and redo all the paperwork.

Me: What? That's ridiculous. I don't live nearby. Let me call the main office.

Main Office: You don't have to go back and the order wasn't cancelled. We can fix it.

Me: Ok, thanks. This is really confusing.

Them: You still need to come in and re-sign.

Me: Nope.

House is delivered, with loft windows somewhere between the 2x3s and 3x3s she showed us. Are they 2x4s? Whatever.

and a deluge of rain delaying the delivery for an entire week took so much out of me that I feel like I really worked for it. And, after all, it is just a shell at this point. No wiring, plumbing, insulation. The real work will come. But who cares? It's so pretty!

The metal roof is colored copper, and I had them leave the wood siding the natural color. The inside currently has three lofts, but we will remove the small middle one (put there for stability while pulling this thing down the road) and extend the back loft. I am also going to be building two interior walls to create a bathroom space, and a small laundry closet.

The footprint of the entire house, including front porch but not the lofts, is 392 square feet (14 feet wide by 28 feet long). 

Here's the inside view from the sleeping loft, and me being happy in it, despite having scraped my elbows climbing up there. You can see the small middle loft that will be moved to join with the bigger loft in the far background:

Here's my porch and feet. This is a new thing that my little brother started in our family. Anytime we are somewhere new and interesting, we take a pic of our feet propped up and text it to each other:

The delivery itself was the surprising part. They towed the house to us on a single-axle semi. We were wondering how the hell that thing was going to drive up my crazy-steep new gravel driveway. Surprise, surprise. They slowly tipped the trailer up and slid the house off onto a tiny little 13 horsepower Mule and two big tires propping up the other side, which then proceeded to tow the whole cabin up my driveway. The incline was a little much, so Dad volunteered to push from behind in the tractor. And up it went! The delivery team consisted of a man, his early-20s daughter, and teen nephew. The three of them had it secured in place in about an hour. They were incredibly good at what they did.

So my house is here. I still can't get my car up the driveway (gravel isn't packed tightly enough yet), but it's only a matter of time. Gardens! Rotating composters! Chickens and goats and bees! A penny floor! I am so full of ideas. My Pinterest boards overfloweth. I shall keep ye updated.

Afternote:

I have slept in the cabin several times since its delivery. My first night in it, Mom and Dad brought me a chair and a vase of flowers, and left me a note that said "Welcome Home".

In which the ground, and also the skin on my hands, is broken

Every time I start a new phase in my life, I am compelled to start a new blog.

This one is about my foray into house building, and also gardening, and also self-sufficiency, and also simplifying my life, and also going green. There's a lot. It's hard to know where to start.

For the past five years, I lived in New York City, partly in Queens, but mostly in Manhattan. It was an adventure every day. An expensive, noisy, beautiful, stressful adventure. One evening when the city was really getting to me, I realized that over the course of five years, I had spent over $50,000 in rent. Now, I don't want anyone to get the idea that I regret moving to NYC. I'm sure it was exactly what I needed at that moment in my life. But during those five years of hustle and struggle (which, I know it's cliche, but is REAL) I started building a new idea in my brain. An idea of a small place entirely my own where I was the landlord and the super and the tenant all in one. Where I could have a doggie and a lot of outdoor space to grow my plants. And then I stumbled upon the tiny house movement.

I was instantly obsessed, and watched every single show and clicked every single pin on Pinterest that was even remotely about tiny houses. I was amazed to see what people could do with so little space. It was all so clever! And cute! But not in an annoying way. More like, a cool-kid-aloof-no-big-deal-shrug way. Like, "Yeah, my bed also doubles as a dining table, and occasionally a bathtub when I'm feeling whimsical, so what?" I wanted one!

Secret confession: I love to surprise people, especially by doing something they don't expect me to be able to do. It's the main reason I brought a snake home from the UAB reptile show when I was 12, played the drums in beginning band, and why I only buy cars with manual transmissions. You're damn right I'm gonna wire and plumb this house myself.

So I said adios to NYC, moved back to Alabama, picked a spot of virgin forest on my parents' 22 acres, and said, "Let's do it!" Unfortunately, I do not own a tractor, so I had to sit on the Mule and watch as Dad and his friend Terry knocked down trees with their tractors where my house was to go. I wished so badly that I could have participated in this part, but I had to swallow my pride and just let it happen. And honestly, I don't know if I've ever seen Dad have so much fun.

Another confession, though this one concerns the whole Humber family: If Dad asks you to help him, be aware that "helping" him consists of standing nearby while he does all the work himself. You may occasionally hand him something, but I think he just likes the moral support of having someone nearby. However, in regards to my house, Dad will be helping me. I am determined to do at least half of the work myself so I can understand how a house gets built and how it works from the inside out. Dad is my contractor and I am the apprentice. I am going to build this house! Even if I continue to leave bits and pieces of my own flesh and blood everywhere (concrete blocks will destroy you if you let them), and contract malaria from one of the thousands of mosquitos fighting each other for real estate on my legs, and all my limbs are covered in oozing pustules from the poison oak blanketing the property, I WILL MAKE A HOUSE! AND I WILL ENJOY IT! Whether I like it or not.