The Chick Coup Saga: The Roof

So over the past week we tore down the old chicken coup. And by we I mean Scott. I mostly helped move boards around and generally tried to look busy and vital to the process.

The first step was to remove the old metal roof, which would become the new metal roof through the use of the magic of reusing. Scott fought his way on top of the structure, which I missed because I was paying the fuel oil guy money for precious, precious heat. I think I can capture the experience with these carefully selected quotes:

“This roof pitch is steeper then I thought.”

“Okay, it's very slippery up here. Really slippery.”

“Here tie a knot around the hammer and the crow bar so I can pull it up. If you tie it like that the crowbar will fall out and hit you... this is an interesting knot.”

Once the roof was down Scott bashed the building apart with a sledge hammer over a period of about two days. If you are wondering why I didn't get to use the sledge hammer, it's because I wield a hammer like a drunk monkey. I have no ability to aim. Anything with hammer in the name is like my Kryptonite. If you named a drink The Hammer I would toss it back and hit myself in the eye.

Anyway, the actual putting on of the roof went fast, since we did not have to cut any pieces. Scott was up on the roof and I just handed him up sections.

Immediately after we had placed on the last bit it started to snow. We have about an inch outside. Don't be fooled into thinking the weather was on our side though. It's not. It was trying so hard to snow all morning and fuck up our plans, it was just late to the party. You could almost hear the weather shouting for us not to work so fast. It's just up there lurking. Waiting. Watching.

Me paranoid? Never. That's crazy.

Want More Chicken Coup Adventure? Here's The Final Part. (Thank God.)

We Moved. It is Done. DONE.

We moved.

It all started when Scott went out for a walk came home and announced in his best I-am-serene-because -life-can't-take-anymore-from-me voice that the sewage line was broken. Ignoring the fact that the EPA might want to kill us, this would explain why the toilet was flushing poorly and the sink doesn't work.

I suggested moving. Scott said no on the bases there was no Internet over at the newer mobile home. What followed next was hours of passive aggressive bullshit. I knew the only way I was going to get to move sometime in my motherfucking lifetime was by driving my husband insane.

So the next morning, before he was fully conscious I rolled over and said. “Can we move?”

“Pack your shit.” Was his response.

So I god damned well did.

There was Scott sitting in front of his computer, happily listening to his pod cast. Not a care in the world and then I started parading by with books, and half my desk and my lamps. At that point I think he realized that there was no going back.

Our solution to the fact the dish, and subsequently the Internet are all located down a hill from us was to buy a shit ton of Cat5 and run along the ground from one structure to another. It was a pretty ghetto solution, but I live in WV so it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to do.

Scott made the Internet work, while I moved all of our possessions over. I was hoping that at some point he would make the Internet happen and then help me move, but sometime around 3 when he announced his need to make an emergency run to Lowes I lost all hope.

Now the thing I have to explain here is that I moved everything. My desk. Our nightstands. All the clothing. My computers. The TV. The food. EVERYTHING. This was all made worse by the fact that it was raining off and on all day. Which then turned into snow at some point. I was moving my electronic items whenever I saw a clear spot coming. I had no boxes and one plastic bin that I had taken out my closet and emptied. Also, everything I was carrying I had to be able to move with one hand, as there were two doors I had to open to get to victory.

Now let me state that my job involves moving heavy shit. Lots of it. I know how to lift. I know how to pace myself. All I can say is that I entered a zone that day. It was like all of my pent of frustration about living in a shit-hole had just built and built until I reached a peak of absolute drive and PMS driven anger that had burst over me like a tidal wave. I still have no idea how I did all that in one day. NO IDEA.

I was wiped. I was more tired then I had ever been in my LIFE. I didn't tell Scott, but I kept experiencing rolling pains that would run up and down my sides. I ate very little of dinner. This was when we discovered we were out of fuel oil over here and it was approaching witches teat inside. Scott made a fire. Which involved even more good ol' WV figuring. I did the only thing I could do at that point. I got drunk. Really drunk. Because that would fix it. Which it did. Until the next morning.

Which was also my Birthday. This is how I spent my special day crawling around like death was coming for me and being cold.

The Door Was Open Again

So Scott left the door open again last night and when I got up this morning the dog was gone. I did what any self respecting wife would do is this situation, I woke up my god damned husband and told him that he was was going to go look for the god damned dog.

Now he swears he shut the door last night. I doubt that he did. Either that, or the cat has learned how to open doors. Luckily, as I was stepping out to feed the animals, I see the dog running out of the garden, where she had presumably been eating things out of the compost bin. Yummy.

So I catch her and bring her back inside, no harm no foul.

But why is the door still open in the mornings? There are three possibilities.

1. The door is not shutting properly and is popping back open when the wind hits it.

2. The cat has figured out how to open doors.

3. Scott is forgetting to shut the door at night after feeding our outdoor cats.

Now, if number one was true, I would expect the door would also be popping open during the day as well. Even if it was something weird like the cooler night air is causing the wood to shrink and the door comes open, I would doubt it. Today has been colder that the past two days combined, and the door is still shut.

My cat is pretty dumb.

I think number three is more likely. I'm thinking of setting up my web cam and aiming it at the door all night and seeing what the hell is going on. I'm not sure it will record for eight hours, but I'm willing to give it a shot.

All I can say is it had better not be motherfucking Mothman.