For the first time since we started this deck-smash-and-rebuild deal, I abandoned my role as moral supporter and erratic sledgehammer swinger. That's right, I left hubs and our pal to round up debris and drill holes in the spaces we meticulously marked Wednesday night.
This means the dudes were charged with maneuvering the two-person auger, which was supposed to have a 14-inch bit, but only had a 12-inch bit because a certain hardware store didn't offer the 14-inch bit for anything other than a tow-behind auger (whatever that is), despite rate cards claiming otherwise. There were some frantic phone calls, but we got it all sorted out.
A report from the front-lines of this final foray into extreme power tools straight from hubs: "I'd never auger again." He's a man of few words, my husband. Everyone was covered in dirt and mildly insane when I came home.
We have no photos, but trust me - there are three very large holes in the yard.
Tomorrow, our friendly city inspector will come out and make sure these holes are juuuust right. It's raining, so the work crew has been given leave and will likely spend it at Old Chicago, working toward the Cinco de Mayo mini-tour shirt. Saturday will be a triple-header: yes, folks - we'll pour cement, attach a ledger and attend not one, but two parties - both highly fancy, one involving floppy hats and mint juleps, the other a real life gala. Don't worry, we're pros.
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