Construction: Part Two.

It feels like it's been ages since I've posted, but I was determined to get something written today, so forgive me for spelling errors and/or vague, collective nouns like "stuff" or "thing".

Anyway, here goes nothing...

So returning to my deck building story, the three of us (me, my brother, and my dad) sat in the parking lot of Lowe's racking our brains for an idea on how to transport an almost half-ton of lumber to our house. After about 15 minutes, I suggested we rent a vehicle with a larger payload from the store...

Oh, if only it were that easy.

Running back inside, I questioned the woman behind the counter, yes the psychotic, laughing old woman who most likely needs to be on oxygen now from her damaged lungs and diaphragm. In between breaths, she regretfully informed me that they don't rent vehicles out. Apparently, all the company trucks in their parking lot was just for show. Maybe they jump them over forklifts in a stunt show? I'm not quite sure.

Because Lowe's didn't have the answer to our problems, we turned to their arch nemesis for help. Thankfully, Home Depot doesn't use their company vehicles in monster truck rallies, and we were able to rent one.

We returned to Lowe's, keep in mind we're in our Home Depot rental, and began loading the wood into the bed of the truck. Oddly enough, the old woman was no longer laughing, it might have been because we pulled up in their rival's truck, but then again, she probably just choked on sawdust or something. After loading the wood, for the third time, we hauled it off to our house where we finally began construction on the porch.

My father fondly referred to the deck as my project, but if you could have seen him during the building process, you would think otherwise. He's a bit of a...how do you say it? Control freak. But I love him to death anyway, he makes for a pretty awesome dad.

In the end, the porch turned out great....despite the vast abundance of mistakes and obstacles we ran into along the way.

Like me incorrectly measuring two of the boards, the screaming, dad smashing his thumb with a hammer, the screaming, moving the lumber again for the FOURTH time, me twisting my ankle...

...did I mention screaming? Good times, gooood times.