The House that Jack Built


So I’m standing here holding this jack crap’s not working. Do you, uh, do you have a jack I could borrow? “No, I’m sorry.” No? “No” That’s odd, I thought everyone had a jack. “I don’t.” Perhaps you could have a look at my car? “Well, I don’t have to have a look at your car. The issue with your jack is it’s broken. There.”

“I am an engineer. My mother was of the opinion that becoming an engineer was the more financially viable choice but my really big dream was to become an architect. Right before the lady and the jack I purchased a building lot and since I was my own developer due to a substantial inheritance no one could keep me from drawing up my own plans for my own house.” Engineer or architect what I see is an OCD patient in full bloom. Ordnungszwang Jack to use a good German word. “Yes, perhaps, it is in any case true that I suffered from compulsions as a child. I was completely hysterical about cleaning and could never leave a room that wasn’t perfectly neat and clean.”

I just have one question. “What’s the question?” Wasn’t there something about you building a house? Wasn’t Jack going to build a house? “Yes. I… I… I was…trying… but I didn’t get very far.” I can see it’s going to be a bit difficult to get that house built, but perhaps another one. Think, Jack, after all you are an engineer and call yourself an architect. I’ve been told you have an interesting theory about the material which you claim has its own will. Find the material, Jack and let it do the work.

Your house is a fine little house, Jack. It’s absolutely usable.

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