Another hard workday is in the books. This is two out of three. We got a really late start for this one, not on purpose. I didn’t even wake until 9 this morning. Yesterday was hard on me (today was harder), and I fell asleep like the dead as soon as I posted the blog, and didn’t budge all night. I woke flat on my back, with a sore throat that hinted that I might have been snoring (probably a lot). We were going to make three quick stops before we left town, and the gluten free bakery I insisted on took 20 minutes to heat 2 premade quiches, then as soon as we walked out of Lowe’s Mr S-P swore and went back to the house to get the drill batteries. We didn’t even get to the parking spot 1/3 mile from the build site until 2. I had been all excited while we were running around town that I was actually sweating a little on my face, something I haven’t been able to do for 30 years, until the last 2 weeks, thinking I might actually be resuming some sort of normalcy to my body, but no. Once I climbed the mountain with a large vinyl window slung on my back, I realized I was heatstroke dry, as usual. (Listen, y’all, after 5 1/2 years of this daily writing, finding unique, never used before topics is getting harder. You’re getting more of the unvarnished truth these days.)
Rather than make multiple trips ferrying materials uphill, our focus today was building the upper east wall. There was a whole lot of lifting and carrying, and I had to climb a ladder about 30 times more than I wanted to. (By the time I got home, climbing the 3 small stairs on my porch almost did me in.) Right about the time my legs were telling me there was no way I could raise myself up another inch, I was told to go climb the back hill, to be an anchor on the rope tied to the upper wall frame, so that it didn’t go tumbling off the front of the cabin while he set it in place. We managed it, and got the full effect of just how freaking tall this structure is going to be. It’s less a shed and more a full-height barn.
A solid summer rain storm interrupted much of our outdoor work for 45 minutes, moments after we removed the tarp from the upper deck. After that, just like yesterday, it was cold—both the air and me in my wet hoodie. Even so, it was perfect up there. You want to know why we are putting in this much effort, wearing ourselves out, coming home with sore muscles and bruises in the weirdest places? It’s for little moments of zen, just like this:
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