A scrappy job

In our second act as homeowners, on Saturday, Dawg and I spent the entire day clearing out all the scrap metal from the house and garden. I cannot believe that we: (a) had so much scrap around, (b) used our own two hands to dispose of it, and (c) had so much fun doing it.

It was exhausting, sweaty work. For some reason, there was never-ending amounts of tangled chicken wire strewn about the garden. Chicken wire is surprisingly heavy, and when it has been sitting around, exposed to the elements for several years, difficult to maneuver. The better part of the afternoon was spent staggering around underneath the chicken wire, trying to throw it over the edge of the trailer without letting it crash back down on our heads. The fun part was climbing aboard the trailer and stamping the wire down with my feet to make room for more. I'm such a ten-year old.

The most disgusting part of the day was attacking the mess in the attic. The attic is a lovely space, but is filled with -- no lie -- several hundred pounds of filthy old clothes. These clothes are filthy not only because they have been lying around in a dirty attic for an untold number of years, but also because an animal of uncertain species left rather large turds all over the clothes. Ewwww. Okay, it's not fresh shit. It's several years old and is grey and crumbly with age. But still. Oh my lord.

It is a testament of our love for this house, and how badly we want to restore it to normal, that Dawg and I got rid of the clothes ourselves.

Let me repeat that.

Dawg and I got rid of the shitty, dirt-laden clothes ourselves. Me - who gets freaked out by touching wilted lettuce leaves! Dawg - who has a phobia about Other People's Dirt! We did it. Who'da thunk?

Of course, we wore masks and heavy gloves and used a pitchfork so we wouldn't actually have to touch the clothes. But, gah! Feeling those bits of turds crunch to powder under our boots; blinking particles of God-knows-what out of our eyes....it doesn't bear thinking about. But now, it's done, and it never has to be done again. Well, not the clothes part anyway -- there is still a lot of shit (literal and figurative) up in that attic that we'll have to get rid of somehow.

All in all, it was an honest day's work, and we congratulated ourselves all the way back to Paris for being rugged, hardy sort of people. Then we went out for sushi.