It was going to match the curve of the sidewalk on the outer perimeter of the footprint and use old-school corrugated barn tin on the roof and walls. I had time off scheduled, materials lists from my vendors, and the money stashed away. I made all kinds of plans and went to see the City for a permit. I was told, “You can’t have a building with metal walls, and the only metal roof allowed without a variance is standing seam.”
Rather than argue that my MD’s new office building has a façade of oxidized iron or the newest restaurant in the downtown renovation has faux-rust on the corrugated tin roof, I rolled over. I called a portable building contractor, spent the same amount of money for a perfectly good shed that was erected in about an hour by a professional crew. It does what it is supposed to do, it was a treat watching an experienced three-man crew work as a team, and I have plenty of room to store all the stuff that was in the plastic building next to it, but it burns my **** every time I look out the window.
It reminds me of what my old friend used to say, “You know what burns my ****?” He’d hold his hand behind his ****, and say, “A flame about this high!”