It wasn't nearly as bad as everyone thought.
John the Carpenter was pleasantly surprised that the mud floor did not have a layer of mesh between two of concrete. So it took about half the time he had planned. It's good to finish early on Friday.
Drew the College Guy had the worst of it. He was the one to carry five-gallon bucket after bucket down the stairs, through the kitchen, down the veranda stairs, and then heave them into the dumpster.
Let me digress for a moment. Dumpsters are magical. Kitchens and bathrooms disappear into them and then they go away - tomorrow we hope. The new car is being held captive in the garage. My choice. I didn't want it to sit out under the trees. Birds show no respect for its pristine condition.
But back to the jackhammer. My Sweetie and I were meeting with Pat, the landscape architect recommended by a neighbor. So for two hours, we three walked around our double lot. The jackhammer was far enough away that it wasn't even annoying.
So with no agony on our part, the floor was almost all gone. This is all that is left of the hexagonal tile and concrete.
After Pat left, my Sweetie and I continued to clean out the garage. Who puts all that stuff in there? And why? With the cautionary tale from John about the call he received from the recycling station wanting to charge him $25.00 a tire for the 20 that were dumped into one at a job site, we were very selective in the items we tossed in from the garage cleanup. Pieces of wood, yes; household garbage, no.
Besides being magical, dumpsters are also therapeutic. Flinging pieces of a broken window into ours was so satisfying. My Sweetie was very happy when I agreed to toss an old particle board bookcase that we used in the garage to hold all manner of gardening potions.
Now we have the house to ourselves for two days. The cats are smiling again.
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