Just do it!

We have a veranda attached to the outhouse which, for a lot of the year, is a nice place to sit and watch and listen to nature in all it’s glory.  It’s also where the Hub spends most of his quiet time.  Now that the wall is finished, I’ve been nagging encouraging him to build the veranda wall he’s wanted for ages that will shield him from the weather, especially as he’ll be recovering from major surgery in a few months and I’m not having him moaning piteously in the house.  He can do that outside where I can’t hear him.

But he’s been dragging the chain. Getting distracted and bouncing from one thing to anoth – ooh!  Fish! – er and assuring me that’s there’s plenty of time and it won’t take long to build, and he’s just off to take care of some secret men’s business.


Yesterday was quite windy and rainy and in the back of my mind was ‘he needs to get onto the veranda’ but I said nothing, because I’m a good wife. And I think I had already nagged reminded him yesterday. Not sure but it is definitely within the realm of Possibility.

This morning I was woken by the sounds of construction.  Apparently, last night he got smacked in the face by wet leaves.  Bless you, Mother Nature.  Us girls have to stick together.  Sisters unite!  And guess what?

Yup.  It’s finished.


It’s only a wall . . .

So my very clever husband (hereafter known as the Hub) decided in early spring that one of our external walls wouldn’t survive another winter.  I think the fact he could push his finger through the wall is what led him to this revelation but I’m not one for technical details.  I’m the design component of this team.  So while he’s measuring and consulting and figuring out exactly whose arse we’d be extracting the funds from, I’ve wandered into the local hardware store, briefly looked at the available colours and gone “Yup. That one’ll do.” as compared to feverishly surfing the web looking for the decorative details. The omramming and vindusknekt.  Yeah.  I had no idea, either.

All I wanted were pretty windows in a traditional style to take the house back to when it was born 200-odd years ago and thought “I’ll just plug in those insane words and all the businesses who sell them will pop up.  I love Google”.  No.  No I don’t.  Have you ANY idea just how many Nordic bloggers talk about omramminger and vindusknekter (the plural forms.  Oooh!  Language lesson.  Bonus.) and show pretty pictures with absolutely NO useful information at all?  Pretty much all of them.  Now ask me how many businesses sell these bloody things.  Go on, ask me.

Bugger all.

I searched and swore and hid under my doona whilst my beloved Hub rubbed my shoulders and looked in wood supply stores on the sly.  Nada.  And then he found some vindusknekter and intended buying one to bring home for my approval.  Until he saw the price.  He came home empty-handed.  Good call, hunnybunny.

So I returned to the internet and continued my search until, miraculously, I found someone who made them at home.  Cheaply.  With quality wood.  The Hub was shoved in front of the computer to buy them.  Buy them now!  I.  Must.  Have.  Them.  So he did, bless him.  And then the wait started.  I’m sure the poor postman started fearing for his safety when he would turn up empty-handed day after day.  The wall was up and mostly painted, windows had been replaced and all we were waiting for were the vindusknekter (plural form, remember) so that we could use them to create a template for the omramminger.  You thought I’d forgotten about them, didn’t you.

And then, one glorious autumnal day . . . they arrived.  Happy dance!

They were beautiful.  I made the templates for the omramminger, the Hub cut them out (first time he’d ever done that so, clever Hub!) and the multiple layers of oil and paint went on them and then they were done.  And then they were up.  And then after an amazing amount of fapping about and waiting for the weather . . . dah dah daaahhh . . . the scaffolding went down today.

window (683x800)Ta-daah!

The observant among us will notice the time it’s taken to get to this point.  6 months. 6 friggin’ months.  For one wall.  The Hub says only 5 months but I don’t believe him due to his irritating habit of looking on the bright side of things.  The physical and emotional exhaustion, the pain,  the expense and worry for 6 months over one wall was much, much more than we had anticipated.  We thought it’d take a couple of weeks, maybe a month, tops.

We have two more walls that need replacing.  Pray for us.