Aside from the upcomng Thanksgiving dinner, we have one other huge home project in the works: (hopefully, God willing) finishing our back yard deck before the winter is upon us.
It's been a long, drawn out process. We wanted to start the deck in the summer, but decided to tackle the installation of a pool heater before we did. We thought that would be an easy fix.
I have been meaning to tell that story on Live Journal for months, but suffice it to say, it involves buying a big ass heater, getting upgraded to an even bigger ass heater, and Corb determining he didn't want to pay an electrician $750 to install the pool heater when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself because his stepfather used to be an electrician. Fast forward to the entire summer spent trying to install said electrical wiring, encountering roadblock after roadblock.
Me, trying to suggest that maybe we should hire the services of a licensed electrician. Corb getting offended,saying I didn't have any faith in his abilities. Ah, the fragile male ego.
Cut to improper installation of wiring, a condenser that blew up after having 17 gazillion watts of electricity being dumped into it WHILE WE WERE IN THE POOL, and you have a sense as to how our summer went.
Finally, around Labor day, we did the only sensible thing we could do. We hired a gay electrician.
No, I'm serious. We hired a gay electrician. He even offers us a "pink discount" and everything. Who ever though a pink discount even existed? Maybe it won't any more, now that Trump is president.
Anyway, the man spent two days at our place, fixing the connections. Two days. I freaked about that, but he reassurred me he was going to cap his work at 10 hours, only charge me $80 an hour and apply the pink discount. Total cost...you guessed it, $750.
Sigh. I should have blown the gay electrician for saving me so much money. I didn't.
I didn't, but we have put him to work on other things. In fact, he has agreed to build the gargantuan backyard deck Corb has plotted out for a relatively minor amount on one condition: we do the heavy lifting.
Which brings us to this week-end. When Corb and I finally had the bandwidth to hire an auger to start digging the holes for the bracing.
Oh, it should only take a week-end, we thought. We have 17 holes to dig, it will be hard work, but we can do it, we thought. We'll buy a top rate auger. how bad can it be?
What stupid fools we are. What stupid, stupid fools. Why did we agree to do the heavy lifting? CRAZY.
Today was our first day. Each hole has to be four feet down and 12 inches wide. Anyone want to hazard a guess how many holes we managed to dig?
Well, maybe it's because we live in the rocky New England clime. Maybe it's because we started the rental at around 11:30. Maybe it's because we had an appointment with the vet at 1:25 to check out a bald spot that Kyra has on her left leg. (Don't want fleas in the house, after all. PS: It's stress.)
Anyway, sum total after one day? Well...
One and a half.
One. And. A. Half. And neither one is entirely complete. The most complete one has six inches more to go. Who ever thought six little inches could be that difficult? We have 15 more freaking holes to dig! AT the rate we are going now, We will have 17 complete holes by...well, winter may be upon us.
And by the way, boy do I hate augering. Is "augering" really a word? I don't know, I'm too tired to worry about that. I'm officially making it a word. I bless thee augering. Augering, the act of using an auger.
Every muscle in my body aches. And I wasn't even doing the heavy lifting!
I can only hope tomorrow brings better progress. Maybe if we wake up earlier. Maybe if we don't have any distractions.
At least Corb has all of next week off to prepare for the Big Dinner. I am going to go to work on Monday in complete agony thanks to the Big Dig.
What I Learned Today: I really, really, really hate augering.