Demolition Day

We can’t quite put a barn up in a day. Not even close. Yet as it turns out, we are pretty darn good at gutting our entire future home in a day.

Tuesday morning. 8:00. The sky was calm. The hangar smelled slightly like exhaust as our good friend backed his dump truck into the hangar.

Yes. We have a friend with a dump truck. And we’re so thankful to him.

The first order of business was to remove anything that could be reused by us or anyone else. Shelving, electric outlets, doors, trim…

Then my father-in-law started attacking the walls.

Yes. My father-in-law came all the way out here to help us. He even biked the last couple hundred miles just to get here. He’s borrowing Martin’s shirt, so I think I mixed the two of them up a dozen times as we were hauling stuff and ripping everything apart. Only the bright bandage on the knee allowed me to know who was who under those masks and hats.

And we were so thankful for him.

But there was no time to be thankful! In fact, I barely had time to grab the camera before my father-in-law was ready to bust down the walls between the old attic and the pilot training room. I’d ripped off the trim and paneling, pulled back the carpet, and ran to get the camera. Boom. The wall was already down.

We were all pulling out walls and insulation like a kid gone wild over a pile of leaves. The dust in the air was obvious, but 3M dust masks made all the difference.

And we were so thankful for them.

Faster than you can say sheep shaped soap, the attic and old pilot training room were one. It was the first time I could visualize what our house just might look like. I think Martin felt the same. That’s when Muscle Martin exploded into action. (Being an electrical engineer, he’d managed all the outlets, lights, and other safety issues between the walls first.)

He decided we needed a little light. Who am I to argue with brutal strength like this? I was totally the weak one of the bunch. But all someone had to do was mention “winter in the tire house” and all you’d see is this blur of motion (otherwise known as Katie and Martin).

The tire house is very cold and miserable in the winter. Plus paying rent there and paying a mortgage over here at the same time really stinks.

Bang. Smash. Chisel, chisel.

By 11:00 that morning, the four of us had eliminated the pilot training room. We sat down. We took off our masks, and we exhaled.

But not very long.

Nobody ever noticed me taking pictures. It was the hardest photo taking I’ve ever done. Not because of the dust; it was the constant change. The second I put down my crowbar and grabbed the camera, I’d feel instantly behind everyone else.

The energy was awesome!

By the end of the morning, I could barely lift most tools. But there was no way I was stopping. No way any of us would.

I didn’t even notice that Martin picked up the camera and snapped a few pictures of me.

I’m so glad he did! I think this part of the job is one of the most rewarding. When the drywall on your side of the wall and all of the insulation are pulled out, you swing the hammer end of this long (CRAZY HEAVY) bar. You’re basically punching the other piece of drywall along the 2x4s to pop out the nails.

We are so thankful this drywall was installed with nails, not screws.

By 2:00, the dump truck was full.

The walls were stripped to the studs.

And we went home for a late lunch and nap because the day was half over.