Last week I had the Final inspection. Basically, after two foundation guys, and the building guy, and two electrical guys, two mechanical guys, and two plumbing guys come in to see if everything is up to code (for instance, did you know you have to have a water-resistant outlet on the underside of an island countertop?), the Final Guy comes out. His name is Monique.
Monique found six things “wrong” with the house:
- The hole where the wires go for the garage door opener should be fireproofed
- There should be numbers on the house
- There should be tempered glass in the garage entry door
- Downspout extensions should be at least five feet long
- I have no front steps
- I need fasteners holding together the deck
The hole where the wires go through can just be filled with spray-foam. Done.
I had house numbers, I just never put them on (it’s odd that this is a code. you’d think, in order to be “safe”, it would be better to put them on the mailbox using some sort of uniform system). Done.
There is tempered glass in the garage entry door. It says on the glass of anything that’s tempered. Non-issue.
My downspout extensions were exactly five feet long. Can’t have that. Another five-dollar fix.
I know I have no front steps. The foreman came to put those in a day later.
I do need fasteners on the deck. My desk was literally just sitting on some 4x4s. I’m happy Monique caught that.
Today Monique is supposed to come back. She will see all of her worries have been alleviated and I can finally, after more than six-goddamn-months, move into my house.
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