Seriously. I should consider renaming this whole blog just that. Or maybe that could be the new tag-line! "21 House: In Which We Demolish Stuff"! I kind of like it. It's so...true.
Anyhow, last weekend was an "at home" weekend (meaning we stayed put instead of hoofing it down to Oregon, as we have been known to do) and so, of course, it was a super productive one. What did we tear down now, you ask? Well, remember this guy:
Come to think of it, you might not really remember him all that well, since I do my best to not include him in many pictures. In fact, Denny and I have so far been repressing the fact that he exists at all. At least, until last weekend when I went outside and saw this...
It appears that all at once Denny got fed up with looking at the Ugly Shed and began to rip it apart. Literally. He'd already dismantled a couple of walls and was working on removing the roof when I came out, made him stop while I got my camera, and then graciously proceeded to let him continue his demolition.
It took him about thirty seconds to tear off that roof. It was like watching the Flash do construction. Er, de-construction, I mean. And, me? Well, I helped a little. While Denny was momentarily occupied with tearing down the remaining walls, I used this little guy and the drill to remove most of the bolts and nuts holding the roof together (confession time: using a power tool successfully made me feel like a total bad-ass -- there, I said it).
And what I couldn't reach or what was rusted-in got removed like this:
Obviously, I was not to be trusted with this step considering my ability to almost gut myself with a simple butter knife. This is no joke. I just found a cut on my arm, like thirty seconds ago. And I have been sitting in front of my laptop. For hours. So how did that happen, I ask you? Anyway...The next step in our dismantling process was to remove the old, rotted-away foundation. For reasons I will show you in a minute, I elected to...document this portion, instead of actively participating.
Icky, huh? And it gets worse. 'Cause it turns out that the spider colony in the garage was nothing to what was growing under the shed. And I do mean growing. These spiders were the size of small Jack Russel terriers! (Okay, that's somewhat of an exaggeration-- they were more like the size of largish guinea pigs. Seriously. Check it out.)
This was an actual conversation I overheard just before their Very Timely deaths. There may have been more that I missed, though, because Denny and I were squealing like little girls the whole time prior to the SMACK-smacksmacksmack-ing with the shovel.
Sidenote: I believe "Sheila" and her friend were most likely offspring of the terrible Shelob, given their size.
Sidenote #2: I would like it noted that I am a (somewhat) little girl. Denny is...not. Just sayin'.