So my friend Cathy is starting to see the light at the end of her full-on remodeling tunnel. It’s been about a month since things started and she no longer has a carport, but what she has gained is lots of dust, knock-out fumes, plywood floors with sections of hardwood, radiant natural light, a third bedroom, and about 750 additional square feet of living space. And soon she’ll have a cavernous kitchen (compared to her old one) and boatloads of finish carpentry to perform.
Since the contractor has been at her house for so many weeks in a row, the workers have been leaving most of their tools so they don’t have to tote all those heavy utensils around
(after all, a 22 ounce California framing hammer weighs about a pound and a half; seriously). Since Cathy’s build has finally arrived at the drywall stage, the workers have been using stilts. So I stopped by her house the other day to survey the progress and, if you’re anything like me (and may all that is good and holy help you if that’s actually the case, because let’s face it; you’re screwed) you walked over to said stilts, fumbled around with the buckles, and experienced life as a man that’s damn near eight feet tall.
While I might not be the tallest man alive, I have to admit, being that close to the ceiling was wicked cool. I contemplated buying really long pants and heading downtown but I thought that might be a little too weird (especially since Halloween was last weekend). Anyway, what I realized was that everyone should be able to walk around on stilts (and I mean quality stilts) for a little while. It’s a unique feeling to experience what it’s like to be that freakishly tall (and see all the dust on the tops of their picture frames).
Since the contractor has been at her house for so many weeks in a row, the workers have been leaving most of their tools so they don’t have to tote all those heavy utensils around
(after all, a 22 ounce California framing hammer weighs about a pound and a half; seriously). Since Cathy’s build has finally arrived at the drywall stage, the workers have been using stilts. So I stopped by her house the other day to survey the progress and, if you’re anything like me (and may all that is good and holy help you if that’s actually the case, because let’s face it; you’re screwed) you walked over to said stilts, fumbled around with the buckles, and experienced life as a man that’s damn near eight feet tall.While I might not be the tallest man alive, I have to admit, being that close to the ceiling was wicked cool. I contemplated buying really long pants and heading downtown but I thought that might be a little too weird (especially since Halloween was last weekend). Anyway, what I realized was that everyone should be able to walk around on stilts (and I mean quality stilts) for a little while. It’s a unique feeling to experience what it’s like to be that freakishly tall (and see all the dust on the tops of their picture frames).
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1 comment:
way to find the "upside" in the construction mess, I am sure Cathy got a kick out of 7 foot tall Eric (as if any of us can handle two more feet of you...)
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