this has
been the biggest surprise yet in 18 months of
rehabbing this messed up house.
prying up water damaged floorboards, i wasn't
expecting to find a solid concrete platform
big as a pyramid's cornerstone: 10'x10'x1'--that's
3.7 yards, or 267 50-lb. bags, of concrete.
someone expended a lot of effort to put it here.
was it the base of a former structure? perhaps
a past porch? whatever it was, they built the
house around it. it serves no purpose, just gets
in the
way of the fresh 3/4" plywood subfloor i intend to
lay. i only need to take it down an inch or two
in places, but there's a reason nazi
pillboxes still dot the shores of brittany.
after last
year's fiasco,
i added a used rotohammer to my toolkit, but even
with all its oomph i still find myself
hunched over
staring at this impregnable block in a cloud of
dust for hours on end, trying not to grit my teeth
as the
tool kicks in my hands, breaking rock as it breaks
me. this house is eating me alive!!!
ok, deep breath...
it's been cloudy and
cool, even a little rainy (a refreshing
reprieve in normally bone dry northwest
summer) but today
the sun came back and i limped to the beach
after work feeling
slightly oppressed by my chosen life path. the
water was cooler
than expected and i eased into its chilly
embrace. an air-bnb'er on
shore brrrr'd and asked how i could
stand it. it's medicine, i said.
the person who came out dripping was not the
same who went in.
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