Butterflies in the stomach — but none in the front yard, which looks vaguely moonscape-like, with holes where I dug up plants yesterday.
Got a call about 11 from Will, saying they were gathering forces to arrive.
The Port-a-Pot arrived.
Will arrived with a truck full of boulders, which he then dumped in the front yard.
The workers arrived with their mobile HQ, which will be parked in front of the house until the job is done.
Will talks with the head of the work gang. I hang out, make a few comments, offer a few reminders.
We discuss the steps to the front door.
Will heads for some sales calls. The work begins.
Later … digging! Chopping! Removing! Mini-dozing! Toppling! It’s landscape madness!
I can hear vibrations and thugs. Hear cutting of concrete.
I hate it.
That’s an exaggeration, but I am a control freak, and I know enough not to get in the way while they’re doing their job, and I feel (rightly or wrongly) that it’s all “out of my control,” so it’s intensely frustrating. And, of course, I’m fearful that I’m not going to like what they do, and that it will all end up costing eleventy zillion dollars beyond what we bid, and I’ll end up living out of a cardboard box.
Well, wait, that latter part isn’t likely. But … unlike home improvement projects I’ve worked on before, I’m not actually working on this one. And the deck was, of course … well, sort of a big Lego construction set, basically. It was straightforward what it was going to be and look like and the pieces involved.
But this — this is thee parts engineering, two parts art, and one part doing whatever it takes when it comes down to it. Which, since it isn’t me doing it, is just darned scary.
As it stands, it looks like, by the end of the day, all the demo work will be done.
Then it gets interesting.