Monday, August 14, 2006

Day 16, Sunday- A “Safety-First” kind of day

Got a late start (8:00am) as I slept in a little. Thought about going to Mass, but quickly came back to my senses. It was cloudy- and clouds help bring lightening. I know a sign when I see one.

My first project of the day was to tear off the stovepipe that remained from the pellet stove David relieved me of. Brought out the trusty ladder, set it in position, gathered my tools, a can of roof patch, and a new vent. I arranged my supplies and proceeded to scurry up the ladder.

I learned something today. This roof is steep. Dangerous steep. Stupid Steep. It is, however, just fine at the beginning. The roof begins as gentle slope near the dreaded edge, then suddenly juts skyward like some gothic cathedral.

I learned how steep it was on my first aborted assertion. Five steps and I was sliding down, feet first and on my belly- tools careening into open space, thinking (in order):

  1. Oh shit!
  2. Wow- this is a strong gutter, I wonder if…..
  3. Ouch. Stupid roof.

So, as I sat on the ground at looked up, I remembered that great advice given to all boys when they are growing up. “Get back on that horse!

So I did. I'm a fireman! I'm not afraid of any stupid roof! I will teach that horse a lesson! I started off again.

I made it to the stovepipe and, bracing myself, got to work. That is when I promptly slipped again. I was able to control my descent better this time, thinking (in order):

  1. OK, stop before the edge.
  2. Shit! Stick the landing- feet first, bend the knees.
  3. Ouch. Stupid blackberries.

Yep. I may have “stuck” the landing, but I pitched forward and landed in blackberries.

Joy. I gave up on the roof and went inside. Time to polish brass!

I hooked the wire brush wheel to the power drill and went to work removing years of wall-candy from the old hardware. About ten minutes into it, the drill slipped and went running (at 1500 RPM) across my knuckles. Hey ladies, dermal abrasion really works.

When I finished swearing, I went over and put my gloves on (yeah, I know) and went back at it. After another fifteen minutes, the wheel skipped again and ran across my wrist, just below the glove. That kind of stung.

I spent some time with my friend Medical Tape and stemmed the bleeding. I then went back to work, holding the piece of brass between my feet in a sort of yoga/lotus position. That worked really well, for about thirty minutes. Then the drill, obviously possessed by demons, jumped up and slammed into my crotch. That’s right; I got 1500 RPM of spinning copper wire love right in the beanbag. Thank God for Levi’s.

For the record, no I do not have a vice at the new house. It is at the old house, over four blocks away.

When I finished hyperventilating, I pulled myself up on all fours and crawled to the bathroom. After making sure the boys were OK, I decided to move on to demolition. I started pulling off the old wainscot.

Of course, the plaster came with it. Well, capital-letter-crap-on-a-stick. That’s going to be a ton of fun to fix.

That’s when I went home. My lovely wife looked fried. “I can’t do anything. The baby is all over me and the internet is down. It just hasn’t been a very good day.” She looked exasperated, exhausted, and frustrated. She was not, however, bruised or bleeding.

“Go run you errands, I’ll watch the kids.”

"Good day at the house?" she asked, heading for the door.

"Just about average." Sadly, that was the truth.

I went to work when back once she got home and just painted trim. Nobody got hurt, no surprises. Just music and paint.

Total costs: $1,368

3 Comments:

At 7:06 PM, Blogger Kentucky Girl said...

I must tell you, I found you via your wife's blog and man, you write some great stories over here! Keep up the good work and good luck fixing up the place! Looking good so far! :P

 
At 12:39 AM, Blogger Oregon Coast said...

Well, I figure if you missed the helicopter that crashed, didn't lose a leg when you were rearended in the squad, then I shouldn't be gnashing my teeth that you're doing work on the roof?

 
At 2:56 PM, Blogger Miss Sassy said...

This is why sometimes I'm ok with being a chick.
I'm not expected to fall off a roof, demo a house or my hands, OR figure out a way to heat aerosol cans while I'm not watching them...
I often get told to "just stand there and look pretty".
Sometimes its offensive, like when I can deadlift more than the crew at hand, but on the other hand I can't remember the last time I had to bandage my hand or check my pants for hot drill bits so I think I'll stand here in heels and flip my hair and laugh to myself at how even PMS is sometimes worth NOT doing Guy Stuff.

 

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