You pour the first floor with rebar sized for a fourth one nobody has approved yet. Jupiter and Saturn share the same degree in your chart, so the wanting-more and the building-slow are one craft: every plan you make arrives with its true cost in years already penciled in the margin. The flashier people around you read your pace as drag. They have not watched you weigh the roof before you raise a single beam. What you stop mistaking, eventually, is your patience for fear. The same hand that asks how much also asks how long, in one stroke, the way a single pen draws both the height of a wall and the depth of its footing on the same blueprint.
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