Tag Archives: tools

The baby nightmare continues…

 

Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.

 

 

 

When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.

 

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Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.

 

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Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.

 

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I assured him it was not.

 

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What? Why? How much….

 

 

I didn’t even want to know.

 

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Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.

 

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But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…

 

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I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…

 

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I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.

 

 

 

 

 

Babies can be annoying.

 

Let’s face it, there’s going to be a weekly baby barn update for the duration of the deconstruction/construction.

Which, at this point…. I figure will end sometime between  Jesus, isn’t it done yet?  and   If I have to pry one more splinter out of my hand, I’ll shoot myself in the head and call it good.

Walls.

 

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If you’re an immigrant during this administration? Not Good.

 

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If you’re a rotting baby barn circa 1974?  Very good.

 

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Here’s a pic of the husband using his vintage (what feels like 50lb) saw.

You’ll notice he’s hunched over and applying pressure. That’s because the damn thing shimmies like a tilt a whirl on crack and might fly apart if you don’t.

 

 

Walls.

 

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They’re a good thing. But sometimes…

 

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You see where I’m going with this?

 

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From the outside all looks well.

 

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From the inside, things went a little squirrelly on the right.

Crooked?

 

little bit

 

Do we care?

We do not.

 

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Do we wait for the wife to bring the dust pan during clean up?

 

 

So, another weekend done.

Another section framed and ready for siding.

 

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Did I mention that the husband’s plan of starting at the halfway point on the front and working his way around makes it look a bit odd?

 

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Rather like a schizophrenic.

Perhaps I shall name her Sybil….

This is not what you want to find when rebuilding….

 

Our old baby barn/shed has a dirt floor with heavy duty rubber mats on top. Due to numerous woodchuck holes and tunnels, we had to drag all the mats out. That sounded easy enough until I realized each one of them weighed the equivalent of an African elephant…

 

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Seriously.

A pregnant, morbidly obese African elephant carrying a suitcase I packed for an overnight trip.

 

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Did I mention they were all covered in pounds of dirt as well?

 

 

So as we’re moving the next to last mat…..

 

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This.

 

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A chipmunk burrow with tiny scraps of paper, plastic and leaves.

Upon further examination…

 

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A maze of tunnels, which I thought was pretty cool, until… it moved.

 

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Do you see the leg?

 

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Yeah.

 

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Not a tunnel.

A nursery…

 

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Which means we had to find the other end of the tunnel and relocate them. Not an easy task.

Five minutes after we found them?

Momma found us.

 

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And she wasn’t happy.

She ran around squawking and chirping and looking for her babies.

 

 

After a while I think she found them, because she stopped searching and started stuffing.

Stuffing her little cheek pouches full of all those little scraps of paper….

 

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And scurrying back for more.

Within minutes she’d cleaned up the whole lot.

Watch her cram a dried leaf that’s almost bigger than she is below.

(And please pardon my husband’s cursing. Things were not going well with the rebuild at this point…)

 

 

After we wasted time relocating chipmunks, we realized we had to relocate a bird’s nest as well.

 

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So many evictions.

I felt like an evil slumlord.

 

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Back to work…. and things did not go well.

Which was completely the husband’s fault.

 

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He had the crazy idea he could square the building properly  (After 40 plus years of Maine frost heaves? Madness!)  and changed the original footprint….. which in turn threw everything off kilter.

More good times.

 

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Did I mention he uses tools from the 1950’s picked up at a yard sale or the dump?

This little jewel feels like it weighs 50 lbs.

 

But he has the original box… and vintage lube.

So it’s special.

 

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P.S.  For those of you who pay attention, this post is actually out of sequence. That back wall is gone now. Apparently my blog scheduling has run amok.

 

 

 

Things I don’t like today… chapter 2.

 

I don’t like…

 

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Going out to the barn for something and finding the husband has bought another…. yeah, whatever the hell that is.

It’s a good thing he has a fold up cot in there. He might be needing it.

 

I don’t like….

Going  out to the barn for something, and not being able to find it because the husband has too much  rusty old useless crap  treasure stacked in there. And I really don’t like having some of that crap fall on my still sore, recently broken, now permanently out of whack toe.

 

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Yeah.

Another month of not wearing a shoe. Good times…

 

I don’t like…

Getting out of my car after driving to the store and finding I’d committed Monarchacide.

 

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Poor little beauty.

I didn’t see you…. honestly.

 

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And finally,

I don’t like….

 

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Unicorn onesies for adults.

Come on….

 

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I say, that’s who.

I will not have a good time cleaning and organizing my house in a unicorn onesie.

Good God, what’s wrong with people?

That’s what tequila is for.