The joys of home ownership, renos, demos, ohnos.
I neglected to mention that when the office was torn down, one lone piece of roof made a final protest at being removed. Swung soundly into one of the living room windows. Voila the result. Steve only got one gash and, after a couple weeks of looking at poly, installed a window that mom and dad had in their garage, almost a perfect fit. Good for now.
Turning your attention to the finer, major details of home construction, may I present to you our foundation? Proudly supporting our house and the wood addiction of local carpenter ants. We've bought the lumber to begin The Job. Or One Of the Summer's Jobs. In Dad's new book of Wisdom, some famous guy says, "I've known this all along: Don't ask the experts." And so we are going ahead with the installation of beams, replacing of pony walls and pouring of foundation ourselves. Consult enough of the Snake Island crew and you have all the expertise you need, minus a few beers.
I just have to say that, despite the fact that it causes the collapse of our house, I have always loved the trails made from ants eating wood. I used to find the logs along the ski chalet hills riddled with passages and think that I had discovered ancient languages, characters of the forest...warriors? Gods? Fairies and elves. Dwellers. I would decipher them, but I can't tell you what they said. Then I'd have to kill you.
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