The Water Heater, the Aftermath.

After I slept in to the sweet bliss of eight thirty I drug myself out of bed with one goal in mind. My aunt was having a family picnic at 4pm and come hell or high water I was going to take a shower and finish that floor and then go eat BBQ chicken until I couldn't breather and/or walk.

There are worse goals.

So the first order of business after the morning chores was to cut the plywood and paint it and to start treating the furniture for mold. So while Scott drug himself up into the driveway to cut and paint I started cleaning all the furniture. Which was like one of those find the hidden object games except that the hidden object was mold and it was sneaky and fucking everywhere.

Bitch ass mold.

So I got a bucket and some Pine-sol and tried to convince my knees to bend. Normally when I talk about knee pain I mean on the surface of the knee caps from kneeling on a hard or uncomfortable surface too long. This however was new in that there was shooting pains in the knee itself. Like my bodies own special way of telling me to go fuck myself.

Also special was that when I was done treating all the big stuff, was the super awesome not shitty at all discovery that I had to check every damn drawer from both chests of drawers because some of them had mold on them too. Which meant that I had to empty them out into the ever growing pile of laundry and then wash out the whole fucking drawer.

However that was the easy part. Or at least easier then going through all the clothes from our closet that had mold on them or had become filthy from contact with the floor, or had been stepped on. Then of course I had to add the rejects to Mt. Laundry and consign the others to the depths of the closet. Of course the only bright spot in all this was I knew that I had mold problems in the closet of the other mobile home I had lived in so most of the shit on floor level was in plastic bins.

Which as far as I am concerned are magic mold repelling devices from the future.

All I had to do was wipe down one or two of them and shove them back into the closet so I could return to trying to remember what drawers went in what order and I can't mix them up because they will stick shut and then I will have to fight them open because old furniture is picky.

Basically it was like playing the worst memory match game ever.

Then the plywood was done and I got to lay down the tiles and I felt really, really good about this floor because the cheap shitty tiles didn't look half bad and I really, really hate carpeting. Plus the carpet had been a deep blue and these were much lighter and made the room look, you know, bright for once. Then I finished the closet and we put everything back and then we took the hot water heater for a test drive and it fucking WORKED.

So then I took the greatest shower in the history of mankind ever.

Ever.

Astronauts showering in space for the first time? Not even close.

So them we got cleaned up and I gave the finger to Mt. Laundry and then we went and bought some pies from the fucking Walmart and then went and ate BQQ chicken and my relatives laughed at our story and I ate pie and potato chips until it hurt and then I shoved some brownies in my face because I was trying to pack in calories before I was back to eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch every day. And then all too soon it was time to go home and I got to take home a pie because apparently nobody likes apple and then I was all like, score.

Then we got back and I put medication in the cats eyeballs and we decided to let the Jack the dog back into the bedroom because he had been super ridiculous unhappy that he couldn't hide under the bed anymore and then he was thrilled up until he saw that we had put down tile and he played like three rounds of the floor is lava and then he tried to get under the bed twice while his feet went in every direction and then I felt kinda bad for him and then he got the hang of it.

And then I made a mental note to buy him a rug and then I realized that was probably not going to happen because I had just spent like, all the money.

All of it.

And then I figured he would get used to it and then I went to take him outside and he couldn't get back out from under the bed and I had to pull him out because his legs no longer legged.

At least in his mind.

And then he said fuck it and came to bed with me and curled up right by my side and I put one arm around him and looked up the ceiling and thought about how the past three days had been so fucking insane and that when people told me that building a house was the hardest thing I would probably ever do I thought about how what they really meant was that it would take everything out of you that you had and more, and that it would run you down and down and down until you felt like you had nothing but that somehow you would keep getting back up and doing it again for the love of the dreams that you held deep in your heart.

And then I said “you know Jack, I think we are going to be okay.” And then he licked my hand and heaved a deep sigh that is his way of telling me he has settled and that it is time to go to sleep and I stopped petting him and closed my eyes and thought one last time I think it's gonna be okay.

Once I get over this sinus infection and knee pain, that is.

Oh and the back pain.

And my hands stop smelling like Pine-sol.

So maybe a few more days.

Making Hay and Storing Hay.

So a lot has happened and I meant to write separate posts about it but then I started putting the slats on the sides of the hay storage shed, but then I was so busy that I could only put a few on a day and it felt like I was making no progress and there was never a convenient time to write about it.

Mostly I was putting them on myself because Scott was trying to fix our old/new car and that was more important then putting like, a billion or so slats on this thing because we need to be able to get back and forth to work and shit.

Anyway after what seemed like forever in which it kept raining and I couldn't make hay and we kept treating the cats eyeballs and the car kept demanding that we replace all the oxygen sensors and the office was not giving us enough work I think at some point I finished the damn slats and then went and had some sort of quiet nervous money based breakdown in the woods where I reenacted that scene from Gone with the Wind where Scarlett holds up that motherfucking turnip and yells at the sky that with god as her witness that she will never be hungry again. Except being me I just cried a whole lot and yelled a few obscenities at the sky and then fell back to worrying that I am going to freeze/starve this winter.

It was all a little fuzzy.

And of course the cats eyeballs are still shitty and we have to keep treating her and I feel like I might have more luck just rubbing hundred dollar bills on her eyelids at this point but whatever. Oh and it seems like a bunch of shit like corn and beans that we Scott planted didn't come up at all because ha ha fuck you and your shit dreams Holly.

Sorry. I'm a bit bitter. Here have a picture.

This. This looks like Tim Burton made it. I am absurdly proud.

So in the midst of all this we had three sunny days coming up. Or at least not rainy. So we made hay. Sorry I mean Scott had to take the car in and get new expensive ass tires and I had to make hay. In which Holly was haunted by the ghost of back injury's past, and also haunted by by the fact that when you run yourself to nothing and life is grinding you down like the rocks at a sea shore suddenly finding you have to make two meadows of shit balls thick hay yourself until your man gets back is like trying to climb Everest while wearing tennis shoes and a swim suit made out of tissue paper.

Whenever it felt as though I couldn't go on I would go back inside and drink tea and sharpen my scythe. At one point all I could do was drink tea and lay on the floor and stare up at the ceiling fan and pray that I could find the energy from somewhere to get back up.

I am telling you all this because those of you who have called me a badass and said that am I super strong amazing person with a work ethic the size of Texas were totally right, but that doesn't mean that I don't break down and end up laying on the floor trying desperately to will myself to get back up and go back to work even though I feel like everything is turning to ash in my hands the harder and harder I try to hold it. 

 I'm human too you know.

And then Scott got home and I made him get his ass back in those fields despite his feeble protests that he had just got home and had a sprained ankle and it was alike 86 degrees outside. So then we finished the field I was working on and did most of another and then I had to stop because heat exhaustion is a thing that I get very easily now and I think I was getting it.

Of course I didn't let that stop me because I woke up at like 6:30am the next day and cut as much of the meadow as I could get done before the sun found me because I am not going to let a pesky thing like possible illness fuck me out of my goddamned hay.

Also throughout all this I painted the damn storage shed with occasional help from Scott when he had the time.

Shapow! Motherfuckers.

Then I went and passed the fuck out and took a day off to just touch up the paint job on the shed and make cookies while the hay was drying so that all I have to do today is bring the hay in. Which of course it's going to be much cooler today because the weather just likes to fuck with me.

But I am stupid excited that I did my goddamned homework and get to put the hay INTO A SHED and not under a tarp in the middle of a field. Because putting all your hay under a tarp and then having it snow a shit-balls-ton was the most not fun thing ever. Like, oh I know you just shoveled the driveway and the paths to all the animals and the porches and around the wood stove shed, but here you go shovel a slippery ass tarp off in crotch deep snow. And don't forget the wind is a motherfucker so you'll have to do this again tomorrow.

Mostly though because it cut unacceptably into my Skyrim game.

Also I felt really good about my decision making skills when Scott came home and told me that everyone else was making hay too. Because I have only been doing this a few years and the rest of these guys have been farming for like ever, and that means that I win at hay making. I think.

In conclusion, yes even I too have days when just getting up off the floor was the hardest thing I have done in the history of ever, and yes I really did construct an entire hay shed to give me more video game time in the dead of winter, and it's all okay now because I have cookies. And that when life has kicked you right in the lady lips and has you down the best thing to do is give it the finger until you can stagger back up and punch it right in it's smug lifey face.

And tell it Holly sent you.

Building Bridges (and not the Metaphorical Kind.)

Today we decided in order to get more house lumber, that we needed to build a bridge to access our far fields. Basically we have something that is not really a stream, but almost not really a drainage ditch to span. What was there was mostly buried plastic pipe that was slowly being eaten by the earth.

Basically, the lamest sarlacc ever.

Anywho our first step was to get King the backhoe, and head on down to the back where he made short work of digging out where the piping had been. It was at this point that I discovered two things. One that the previous owners, when faced with the original pipe sinking into the ground, had just placed a second pipe on top of the first one. Which was, I don't even know at this point. Especially because the second pipe was not really a pipe. I think it was one of those round fiberglass concrete molds. Anyway, it wasn't really intact anymore.

The second, and more alarming thing, was that we had just caused frog armageddon. My little amphibian friends must have been convinced that the world was ending. As the backhoe was working they were freaking out jumping around and flailing their limbs, possibly begging the God of Frogs to save them from this terrible fate and have mercy on the believers. Or maybe they were convinced that this was in retribution for sinning, like a frog version of Sodom and Gomorrah

At one point I think I shouted, “jump AWAY from the machine!” But they weren't having any of it.

So I was pretty convinced they were all dead.

Luckily, after we were done digging they reappeared. Looking very unhappy, and also muddy. And no I am not just making that up to make you feel better. They made it. After that we laid some cover down to keep the weeds at bay, and then we laid plywood down to make an even levelish surface for the railroad ties to go on. Then came the shitty part. Well, shitty for me. While Scott got to sit in the backhoe cab that was hotter then the surface of the sun, it was my job to use the lumber picker to grab a rail road tie, heave it up, wrap a chain around the middle and hook it to the bucket, signal Scott to go up, run over to the stream, scramble across the ditch, guide the thing into place while directing Scott, place it, take the chain off, physically pick up the end and shove the rail tie tight into the other ones and then run back over and start the thing all over again fourteen more times.

Yeah I know. It's tiring just to read it.

Needless to say I quit after that and Scott put the top boards on by his damn self. So tomorrow all we have to do is add some gravel because we didn't inset the bridge into the ground. So obviously if we want to drive shit over it we have to you know, make a ramp of some kind. Which of course means moving gravel around.

I also kinda think it would have looked better inset, but as Scott pointed out it's only a matter of time until it is because everything sinks into the earth here eventually anyway. Of course now that we are counting on it happening it never will and the bridge will probably find some way to eject itself from the earth and end up in some other county. Or space. 

Possibly from an explosion of some sort.

Or witches.

It could go either way, really.

Fruit Trees and Not Getting Enough Sleep.

The past week has been an triathlon of not sleeping due to that job thing I have to go to. Basically, I was working ten hour days, and one fucking motherfucking 20 hour one, and catching three hours of sleep between jobs whenever I could.

Because money.

Of course we would plan on planting trees the day we got home from work, because we are bad at thinking things through. Now, in a fit of preplanned madness, Scott had already purchased all the trees, and set them up on our deck. Which happens to be right outside our bedroom window.

So we did our overnight job, said goodbye to our coworkers, and drove in the darkness. When we pulled into the driveway the sun was just starting to come up, turning the eastern sky an unfortunate shade of pink. So I staggered into the house took the dog out, checked on all the ungrateful hungry mouths, and then face planted into bed without taking a shower like a fucking hobo.

So when I awoke, sometime around noon, my first thought was that I should go back to sleep. Possibly forever. I felt hungover, even though I didn't get to drink anything. Which is bullshit people. Unfortunately my sleep forever plan was interrupted by me rolling over and looking straight out onto the deck where the fruit trees were watching me.

Accusingly.

And then I had to get up.

So I tore myself out of bed and threw on whatever clothes I could find because it's not like I had showered anyway and then I threw myself outside. After a hasty breakfast Scott, King (the backhoe) and I went out to dig the holes for the trees. Which was the best part of the whole thing really. After spending so much time digging things by hand, watching King dig holes was like watching the hand of god come down. It was all like, BOOM. DONE. It's what I always thought being friends with a dinosaur would be like.

It was everything I dreamed it would be.

Which was probably a good thing, because holy hell the rest of this sucked. There is some sticky, horrible place that involves not getting enough sleep, and of running yourself into the ground without pause that once you get to certain point, nothing short of sleep and food will fix it. And I was at that place.

So out of the nine trees we needed we cursed and fought four of them bitches into the earth. Of course the holes had so much rock we were running out of dirt clay mush to refill them and then we kept having to stop working to do that thing where you zone out and stare out at the horizon for a few minutes because everything is pain.

Although that wasn't too bad because it was the perfect day. Warm and soft and not yet spring but almost, where the breeze is soft and smells no longer of snow and the sun is hot on my back. Where I can look out over the mountains and it seems like the whole world just opens at my feet and keeps going out and out forever and everything is wholesome and good and gentle and open and free and wonderful in every meaning of the word.

Which is pretty much how I got my first sunburn of the season.

Ow.

Rabbit Hutches Day 2 The Regrets.

Today. Oh today. Today beat me up and wore me out and pushed me onto the floor. Or possibly down some steps. Metaphorical steps.

The day started, as all my days start by rolling out of bed and feeding all of the ungrateful hungry mouths. After staggering back into the house I found I had a few moments of free time before we were to began working owing to the fact I woke up early this morning.

Feeling at peace with the world, I noticed my dog laying on floor telling me what a good girl she had been with her eyes. I knelt down to pet her and she smiled, rolling over on her back so that I could scratch her tummy.

That's when I found the flea.

Oh boy.

However, I couldn't launch into my usual vacuum-spray-poison-shampoo tornado of hyper death, because it was time to go work on the rabbit hutches.

Oh joy of joys.

So I drug myself and the itchy ass dog down to the site where I could work out my frustration at life by moving gravel around in a wheelbarrow. We laid down a think layer of gravel, followed by a light layer of sand. At this point it was decided that we should probably take a break and go to town during the heat of the day cause we were kinda out of food and junk.

Town was towny, and I got the rare joy of learning that the reason I couldn't log into my bank account online was that I am an idiot because I never set up a user name. Awesome. We also bought flea shampoo and flea floor spray which I realized upon getting it home that I can't use because I am fairly sure that it will kill Miss Peeperington.

When we got back we decided to work on the framing, since we were going to embed the posts in the concrete.

This.

Except nothing wanted to work. Even with two of us, the structure was shimmying around, making it almost impossible to keep level. Also at one point I was responsible for keeping three posts upright simultaneously because there was only two of us.

It took a while to finally get the lower sections of boards on. First off the vibration of screwing the boards on would knock any tool off of the frame you had on there, so the first hour was spent dodging screw guns and levels and screws because it's human fucking nature to set things onto a surface at waist level no matter how stupid that might be in retrospect.

At this point, with most of the lower level intact and the structure being able to stand on it's own, I became convinced that it had been possessed by some sort of wandering malevolent entity* Nothing was coming up level. And when we did get something level the whole thing would lean and shift and put us right back into fuckallsville in a hurry. There was cursing and accusations and anger and yelling and thoughts of murder. We fought those posts and no matter how hard we worked nothing NOTHING was staying level. You could do one side and then walk back over to the other and it would be as crooked as a uh, motherfucking crooked thing.

The final straw seemed to be, after moving a board yet again, the level dived off the top of the board and landed with a loud smack right into the sand. For a moment Scott didn't move. I figured this was the moment that he would snap and declare that we were making a Salvidor Dali bunny hutch and that they were just going to have to live with it.

Slowly, like a man in a dream he reached down and picked up the level.

“The level.” he said.

Yup this would be that breakdown I thought was coming.

“The level,” he repeated, “it's not level.”

The level was broken. It had been dropped, and the plasitc level bit with the bubble had been knocked, ever so slightly out of whack. Together we stared at our levely Judas. Then we threw it into the dirt pile and found another fucking level.

It only took us half on hour to fix it after that.

Which was about the time the guy from Miss Utility (the call before you dig so you don't dig through a fucking gas line people) showed up. I think he was there for all of ten minutes. He walked over, we showed him where we were going to be digging, he examined the power pole told us we were good and zoomed off in his truck. Also, he was wearing bright orange sneakers that looked like had been spray painted that color cause that's how he rolls apparently.

So that was good.

But of course the day wasn't over. We still had to set up for the pour tomorrow which I will be getting up at 6:30am to fucking do because you can never have to early of a start when you will be mixing and pouring cement. And then of course I had to launch into murder the fleas mode where I vacuumed and bathed the dog in flea shampoo that you had to leave on for a WHOLE FIVE FUCKING MINUTES while the dog kept shaking and got shampoo all over me but at least I will now be flea free. And of course I had to write this entry which you all won't read till morning cause I am not posting shit tonight.

This was one of those days that was more like several days all crammed into one day. I think I would like to go back to having just one day in my day, thank you very much.

Now I am going to eat ice cream until I feel better about life.

Fix my pain, ice cream.

Fix my pain.

*It's probably that ghost chicken.

 Want more Rabbit Hutch Adventures? Or course you do Here's Part Three. 

  Confused? Here's Part 1.

Building Rabbit Hutches.

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So today we started construction on four rabbit hutches that we kinda need to make because the buns are currently living in a falling down shed that is slowly dying around them. Also the shed is the middle of the field, a hot sunny weedy ass field.

So we are moving them under the trees by the chicken coup where they will not get slow roasted during the summer so maybe I won't have to keep bringing them frozen bottles of water to keep them cool. Not that it worked anyway because they seem to think that the bottles are the devil sent from hell to destroy them and wont sit anywhere near the damn things.

Ingrates.

Anyway, our plan was to build one long hutch that would be divided into four sections. Even though I only have three rabbits because you never know when you could need another cage for something in a hurry because life is unpredictable like that.

So today was spent preparing to pour a cement slab to put it on. Why are we pouring a slab you ask? Because I live on top of a fucking mountain and we routinely get 60-80 mile on hour winds in the winter and I don't want my rabbit homes to do a face plant into a foot of snow.

That might put them off there feed a bit.

So we are embedding the posts into the concrete and praying that nature doesn't see that as a challenge.

So today we used my personal hero, King the backhoe, to dig out the area where the slab will go. Which was awesome because backhoes are fucking sweet and don't let anyone tell you different. And digging by hand sucks big time.

What were we talking about?

Oh yeah. Well we did have to dig by hand a little to level it out, but mostly it was good. Then we did a bunch of boring shit like making the frame for the concrete pour and leveling it, and also adding rocks to the hole slip form style* to make it appear like we had actually out in a stone foundation for this thing even though we haven't because we are fucking crazy. And willing include stonework into every project we do even though it might not be necessary.

Right.

Then we had to put in gravel which is nowhere near the build site because that would make sense. So we loaded up King and then it kinda occurred to us that it was like six and we we both starving so we kinda gave up on working for the day and went and ate dinner.

And by 'give up on working for the day' I mean that we ate dinner and then cleaned the site and prepared a path to get the wheelbarrow in and then Scott made a batch of beer and I vacuumed the floors and wrote this entry and cleaned out Miss Peeperington's cage. And took a shower.

You know what? I think I'm just going to go to sleep.

Probably in this chair.

* Slip form stone work is stone veneer done by smashing rocks up against the inside of a set of forms and then backfilling the forms with cement. Therefore the mason works blind, and cannot see the final face until he or she is done. Also, with this system, rocks can and will pop off the face and need to be shoved back in, as well as chipping off the excess cement that has oozed out between the rocks. It's really not a very good method at all, but if you want to learn more you will just have to Google it cause I am actually writing this a 10 at night and feel like I have been run over by a freight train. 

Want more Rabbit Hutch Adventures? Or course you do Here's Part 2.