It's like they hate us

So, as promised, I was supposed to sign a loan on Monday.  It is Wednesday and I have nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Dammit.  We still haven't started.  And I am getting very frustrated.  Ever morning as I bang my elbows in the tiny bathroom, or place a plate on the wobbly tile kitchen counter, or burn something on the stove that I really don't know how to work, I wince.  In pain, mental and in the event of the elbow, sometimes physical.  

We have picked the worst time EVER (or at least in the last 20 years or so) to build a house.  And since we are knee-deep into it already, there is no going back.  And I know that once it is over, I will be sitting in my glorious living room sighing contently how this was 'all worth it.'  But I'm not!  I'm in a tiny house that has a ridiculously powerful furnace that manages to sweat even me out in 1.4 seconds.  It's like when they were calculating the power need of the furnace someone thought it was a 11,000 square foot house, not a 1,100 square foot house, and they upped it a bit 'for good measure.'  And I am usually the first to say, "I'm cold."  But now, I'm dying – from a heat stroke.

So, I think this afternoon I just might march into a bank and start making some demands.  You know, "PLEASE give us our money!"  They've already approved us, they just need to fork it over.  I promise not to waste it.  I just want to buy some bricks.