Somewhere in the wilds of suburban Winnipeg, high in the boughs of an ancient garage, lurks...
...a somewhat damp Goddess.
It's a Saturday evening in August, and it's raining. In fact, it's been raining all day (or at least since *I* got up, if you want to get technical about it). However, I am not one to let a spot of inclement weather stop Me, and I did indeed spend a few hours in wrecking-ball mode.
It was too damp to use power tools, so I restricted Myself to the basics: Ladder; hammer; crowbar; and various pieces of safety equipment including steel-toed shoes, heavy gloves, goggles, and a hair elastic. I worked outside for two hours and a bit, and managed to tear off a remarkable number of shingles and quite a respectable amount of fir sheathing in varying stages of decay.
It was a bit after 8:30 p.m. when I finally decided it was too dark to work safely. I heaped up the most recent bunch of torn-off stuff, put the tools away, and wobbled into the house to clean up. Red and I then went out for a snack, then came home to watch Disc 2 of Max Headroom.
By sunset tomorrow, I should have the rest of the roof completely off. Then I can start cutting up the sheathing on the garage walls and strip it down to bare 2x4's. Finally, the roof framing and the stud walls will be taken down, section by section.
But we probably won't take the remains to the dump in My Cavalier... I think two, perhaps three pickup loads or one trip in a Bee Fut* oughta do it.
* In regards to futs (especially ones that are sufficiently bee to hold My entire garage), this guy's son knows whereof I speak.
Photos by Red.