Mr. and Mrs. Spesard flew in for Thanksgiving from Illinois, and so we put them to work! No one comes to visit us, be it from France or the heartland, without holding a hammer and drinking a beer. Seriously, we won’t let them leave until they’ve practically choked to death on saw dust.
For the second time in my life, my father – Mr. S, decided to put a roof over my head. Only this time he literally placed the sheathing on the rafters, which is easier said than done.
It is impossible to climb up the walls gracefully, let alone the roof. But somehow we make it work! (Psssst: by installing a makeshift ladder).
I joked that Dad never even put a roof on the tree house he built when my brother and I were young. The never completed tree dwelling was more like a hunting platform in actuality, but hey, we were impressed! Luckily, Dad really stepped up his game on the tiny house.
My mother – Mrs. S, has always been a crafty woman. She personally sewed all my Halloween costumes, and later my homecoming dresses. For Christmas every year she would decorate the 15 foot tall pine tree in our front yard with giant sized candy canes and red velvet bows. She used to make and sell homemade jewelry and has been known to re-wallpaper at least one room in our house every year.
So, of course, cutting insulation all day wasn’t a challenge for her. In fact, most find this task to be tedious and never ending, but Mom was actually giddy knowing she had a giant-sized puzzle to complete. Great Mom, go for it.
The day ended as usual, with a BBBBq photo-shoot. It was at this point my parents decided to have a chat with Guillaume about taking me on the road for a year…
Don’t worry. He defended himself.
Normalcy was restored. All were happy… and a tad unsafe with sharp tools, once again.
Stay Classy Tiny Housers,