The Push Has Begun

Hauling sap

As previously mentioned in passing, one of the keys to building on the cheap is flexibility. For us, this has been most apparent in relation to our window purchases, because it has allowed us to snap up high end windows – most of them brand-y new – for pennies on the dollar. I think the most I’ve paid is 30% of the typical contractor price, which is itself somewhat less than retail. We like a lot of glass in our living spaces, so the overall savings is not insignificant; roughly, I’d estimate we’ve saved a good $12k over new. Of course, we could be buying even cheaper windows, but I’ve done enough building to understand the value of quality glass, and I’m willing to splurge on the good stuff.

It’s sort of astounding to see how many perfectly good windows are sold cheap simply because the customer didn’t like the cosmetics. I picked up a load of seven new-in-the-wrapper double hung Marvin Ultimates for $2k ($1200 + each if you bought ’em at the lumberyard) from a contractor because the mullion pattern the client had liked perfectly well in the catalog didn’t meet her expectations in person. The contractor was eating most of the loss, but he was fine with it. “She’s a great customer,” he told me. “Got lots of money and loves to change things up every few years.” The small bath he took on the windows was nothing compared to the steady shower of her business, which is probably right smart thinking on his part.

Another aspect of flexibility that’s proving key to our impending project is flexibility of assumptions. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve heard something along the lines of you’re building a smaller house just as your boys are about to become teenagers?!? The accepted wisdom seems to be that as children age, they need more space. Or perhaps the expectation is that we’ll need more space from them. In any event, our  feeling is that if the boys (or us, for that matter) want more space, they can bloody well have it… all they have to do is go outside. It’s fascinating to me how many assumptions become so entrenched in our collective psyche that we don’t even think to question them. Why, really, do we need more space? We spend relatively little time indoors. We generally get along pretty well. Heck, I’d even go so far as to say we like each other. Besides which, is it not all relative? The place we’re building will be about 1,000-square feet. There are plenty of families around the world living contentedly in much less space. Like many of the things we’ve collectively come to believe our happiness and well-being are dependent on, I’m pretty sure the size of our homes isn’t one of them.

Someone asked about building codes in relation to budget. Here’s my general view on building codes (which, other than state stipulations regarding wastewater and a few basic town zoning regs, we don’t have to contend with): I hate them with the sort of burning passion I generally reserve for decaffeinated coffee, top 40 radio, and skim milk. I hate them because most are engineered for the lowest common denominator of idiocy, but mostly I hate them because they are an imposition of someone else’s assumptions about how I should live my life. I know that in some municipalities, you can’t even legally occupy a structure that’s smaller that a certain square footage, probably because property taxes are thus based. Just knowing this is enough to make me want to turn it up and break some shit. Furthermore, most building codes make it significantly more complicated and expensive than necessary to build a perfectly good /safe/sound home, which, I hasten to point out, is probably exactly the point (I know, I know: I’m gonna catch it from the licensed plumbers and electricians among you)

Ok. Over and out. I’m two coats of paint into about half our windows. The push has begun.