new shed

Today (Monday, October 23) our new shed was installed.
To some this might seem a triumph, but to me it is sad. It more-or-less symbolizes the end of my existence as a viable person.
This is because it was largely Linda’s project. I will get told otherwise (have been already), but it entailed 89 bazilyun phonecalls, which are beyond my ability to make.
To some extent our house was the last project I was deeply involved with. I suppose you could say the bucktooth-bathtub was my project too, in that I initiated it (our so-called soccer-mom minivan was also tanking) and followed up delivery (and trade). Similarly the CR-V and the Husky.
But the shed is essentially Linda’s doing. We had planned to put a storage-shed on the site, but I was going to design it myself to match the house, and then have it custom-built.
But doing so became impossible; the Husky was taking up part of the garage, which put the CR-V outside. We needed storage for the Husky before the snow flew.
Designing and custom-building meant another year-or-more at the rate I can do things — which ain’t what it was before the stroke.
So the end-result is a kit shed that’s “cute” (add $2,000 dollars), yet has an unbalanced roof: one-foot overhang on one side, and about four inches on the other. The roll-up door was more-or-less my requirement, although if I had designed a shed it probably would have had doors on each side (front and back). And only a roll-up door could swallow the Husky — other doors are too narrow.
I also didn’t feel a man-door was necessary, nor the windows, although I probably would have designed windows in both sides, since a south-facing window can be used to start plants.
Fencing the yard has also been Linda’s doing. Seems okay, but who knows if it will work. 7,000 smackaroos to find Killian can tunnel under it in pursuit of a rabbit. Nice idea, but again 89 bazilyun phonecalls.
the 92-year-old nosy neighborSo the shed ain’t what I wanted, but we needed storage. Not too bad looking, but an unbalanced roof. Also no overhangs over the gable-ends. My design would have had them.
Installation was wedged in among the usual surfeit of madness — a doctor-appointment, Weggers, and buying gas — all of which meant I couldn’t be present when the installers showed up.
And needless-to-say, the installers immediately began shooting nails into the slab; totally disregarding our Strong-Ties.
“Wait a minute;” Linda said. “We moved heaven-and-earth to get them Strong-Ties included in the slab, and here you guys are shooting nails.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hughes. We’ll use the Strong-Ties too.”
And then the roll-up door came without a hole in the metal runner for the lock. “Get me the drill,” head-honcho said.
He drilled and drilled. Lock wouldn’t work — he ran out the battery.
“Have ya got a grinder?” he asked me.
“Nope; but I got files.” I went into our cellar and brought up my drill-case, which has a few grinder-bits. It also had an augur-bit they ended up using. He kept enlarging the hole until the lock threw.
“Do ya get to charge for last-minute fixes?”
Finally they were done after two+ hours; 20 minutes of which was drilling the lock-hole.
It still needs stain to match the house, and it may end up being too cold to do that. The slab-guy has to finish the site-grading and put in a ramp (which will be poured/placed/set/whatever bituminous [bituminous concrete/whatever]).
Whatever; I consider this Linda’s project. And many more will have to get done over-the-years if we are to stay in this house (which I would prefer to do for the dogs). One is windows; they all need to be replaced.
My ability to lead was severely compromised by the stroke, plus the “spells” contributed for a while.
No spells since February, and wooziness has declined to what I called “just feeling unsteady on my feet” to the doctor. I went alone; felt I could advocate for myself as much as needed. My ability to communicate is compromised too, but I felt I could get by. Which is why I can’t do 89 bazilyun phonecalls.
And the “unsteadiness” decreases slowly.