Work Wednesday « Robin Writes

Due to certain, er, issues, we’re stepping up our game a bit.

Let the move begin!

Ha—this is the second house I’ve lived in that I’ve stated, vehemently, that I’M NOT MOVING AGAIN. NOT.

Ah, well. Things change, right?

And for those wondering about all the actual work posts, well, school started and so our schedule changed. We can only work at the farm on the weekends now, which gives us approximately 50 days to finish the prep before we fully make the move. That’s not counting “snow” days when we can’t travel down there.

Remember last winter? We bought the place sight-unseen because we couldn’t get to it and were afraid someone else would snap it up. So, there’s that . . .

As we reviewed our leave-in-a-hurry plan the other day, I realized that sure, we’d get out of the metro area with our lives, our pets, and most necessary items, but what about other needed things and, too, some sentimental pieces?

So that’s where we sit: packing.

Yes, most of my friends and family think I’m nuts. It’s always a possibility. But what we’re packing are things that we don’t need between now and spring, but are nice to have around, and the things that I want to keep but, if the leave-in-a-hurry plan is implemented, probably won’t be able to.

Think about this for a moment. At best, leaving your possessions behind may cause sorrow and regret after the fact, days or weeks later; at worst, the idea of doing this is a distraction while you’re in the midst of LIAH.

Not everyone will have this problem, of course. Right now, though, I’m in my office looking at the manual typewriter my grandmother used in 1930, and the rocking chair that my great-grandmother used to put babies to sleep since 1915. What can I say? These things are important to me.

Just because we’re going to live in a cabin in the woods doesn’t mean it’s only going to be furnished with sticks and rocks.

And now, I’m off to make a fashionable tinfoil hat . . .

No, no it does not.

Every time we turn around, we find something else that needs to be done. Now, if we hadn’t bought a place that was previously lived-in, things would be different. Not necessarily easier, but different.

We’ve had to clean up and clean out everything that the seller left here, which was a lot. And I can’t emphasize “a lot” enough times to make anyone comprehend, so let’s just say that emptying the house alone took three 10-hour days with three people working. And it’s just 900 square feet.

Now that I think about it, when we first moved to Texas, we rented a 900 square foot house. There were two adults, three kids, and a large dog. Yikes! And I think they counted the garage in the final number!

Anyway, we also had to clean out the barn, 40 X 60, and the yard around the house, the garden area, the pasture, etc., etc. Thank heavens a couple neighbors offered to take down and salvage the old house, or it would still be sitting here too.

Today, my husband worked on both sides of the road near the garden. Tons of junk: more of those infernal air mattresses, wire fence sections, planter boxes, metal and plastic containers and buckets, and of course, rocks. Lots of rocks.

Nothing that we haven’t already picked up everywhere else. Well, except for the snake eggs:

In other news, we’ve been washing newly acquired boats, putting together a little grill, power washing the house and decks, putting up drywall, skim-coating old drywall, sanding, and maybe—with a little luck—starting to paint. Finally! Oh, and we painted the ceiling too. Amazing. I think it was white at one point, and now it is again!

Oh yeah—forgot the dodging snakes bit. No, not the eggs, those were black snake eggs. I meant the copperhead that greeted my husband on the deck this morning when he reached for a can of bug spray:

Thankfully, this week there were no surprises—except the rain that finally came, along with strobe-light lightning, all night. And it was a long night, between the puppy ruffing at every noise and the dog trying to get under our bed (an air mattress!). Oy.

So far, anyway, we’ve missed the snakes…