Packing Trash, Pulling Weeds
With yesterday’s work, we had a decent amount of debris to get rid of. So today for me was a “loading up a bagster” day.
With the stairs to the second floor undergoing some work, I no longer felt comfortable using a dolly to wheel down bags of plaster. I’m used to filling up contractor bags pretty well, and hauling them out two at a time.
But for the last round of demo, we filled the bags modestly, and I carried them out one at a time. Which made today’s task a little easier, as each bag was about half the weight I’m used to.
I filled the bagster surprisingly quickly. And the extra wood I had to throw away (lathe and floor debris) wasn’t too bad. I was thinking I’d have a lot of extra, manual work to do cutting up the longer pieces to fit… but I was able to just dump them in, as-is.
There was one bit of old gas pipe that was too long to fit. In talking with Bob, he suggested I either use the sawzall or a 4-wheel pipe cutter in the basement. Though the sawzall was less work, I opted to give the cutter a go – and it was surprisingly easy (and kinda fun).
I was able to fill things up in pretty short order. I was actually surprised at how quickly I got things done.
Taking a break, with a beer. For some reason, despite the heat, I felt good being outside. And with my main task completed, I opted to stay out and do a bit more yardwork.
I ended up trimming a few tree limbs that were dangling over the sidewalk. And I brought out a Bluetooth speaker so I could listen to music, while I weeded. Over the course of the next hour or two, I sank three beers and just hung out outside, slowly plucking weeds.
Things looking a little less hectic.
In hindsight, I perhaps should have knocked off early and just spent some time plopping inside and recuperating. But something about being outside, being already hot and sweaty and dirty… made me want to keep working. It just seemed to make sense to continue the momentum.
I had an odd sensation, as I was working: I felt very patriotic, as I was working on my property. Is that strange? I was listening to music, sinking some beer, and just felt distinctly American.
I felt proud to be a homeowner, proud to be paying my taxes, and taking care of the parcel of land that I called mine. A strange byproduct of a day outside, I guess. But that feeling, as much as the music, kept me going.