EIGHTEEN WEEKS INTO THE PROJECT ...
By now the metabolism of house building was becoming familiar: the flow of small groups of sub-contractrors, each ticking the project up by their particular task. One thinks of the Disney fairy, flitting about, touching rocks with her magic wand, making them spring into lush and beautiful flowers. Jeff zoomed in and out, electrifying each task with his unseen list and his inimical talk-phone-order-decide-counsel machine, a 5-bladed whirly-gig spewing sparks in every direction, each starting a fire that flared, made something, then vanished. Increasingly we were entrained into the mad dash to make decisions about paint color, granite, tile, driveway design, faminate flooring and carpet. Several times the decision was wrong, and we had to redo someting. By the end of this period, the scaffolding was removed, the house painted, the lights installed, and then--poof!--the lights were on, and we felt we had our house.

ALL THIS HAPPENED IN THE THIRD SIX WEEKS ...

Gawd! I'm pooped!