Makes Me Mad

I used to have a pretty bad temper and even these days, I can go from relatively placid to screaming about how nobody around here appreciates me, knows how hard I work, sees what a great guy I am, blah, blah, blah. But for the most part, I’m fairly even keeled, and even when I do get angry, it tends to dissipate pretty quickly.

But right now, I’m still stewing in my juices about another visit to the Seattle Planning Department in our endless journey to get a little studio built in the back yard for Jen’s work, the occasional party, and if I’m sneaky about it, bicycle repair from time to time.

It seems we didn’t pass our final inspection because the inspector thinks the garage is too much like an Accessory Dwelling Unit, (I knew we shouldn’t have painted it lime green and hung those floral curtains) but it turns out that you can’t even permit such a creature in our neighborhood in Seattle, so it looks like, well, I don’t know what it looks like, and that’s in large part what’s gotten me all pissed off like this.

I think it’s the suspicion that we’re trying to pull a fast one and do something illegal that has me all churned up; I am perfectly willing to be accused (and convicted) of ignorance, but I’m not guilty of playing fast and loose with the rules. In fact, all we’ve done all along is kowtow to the regulations and so, here in the 11th hour, it’s doubly aggravating to be seen as some sort of shyster—would that I were so smart!

Of course, this is precisely the sort of “problem” that only people like us who are privileged enough to be building backyard structures in the first place have, anyway, so I probably shouldn’t even be upset in the grand scheme of things.

But it makes me even madder that I shouldn’t even be mad.

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