I'm still here...but I haven't gotten anything else done this week, so there's nothing much to tell you about. Oh, in case you were wondering, ripping the shingles off the house is a whole lot more fun than picking them up and trying to stuff them into trash bags. In my next life I will own a trash company and rent dumpsters to myself for free. (In this life, a small dumpster would cost me a hundred bucks to rent.) Wait, what am I saying?? In my next life I won't own a house that needs a billion cedar shingles torn off it, so I won't need a dumpster! I should learn to dream big.
Anyway, I finally picked up all the shingles. Seven trash bags full of them. I bet the trash man dreads turning into my alley. I can just imagine the two trash guys chatting as they turn the corner:
"Wonder what the crazy lady in the yellow house has for us today? More carpet that's 3'11" wide?" (Because they won't pick it up if it's wider than 4 feet.) "A stack of rusty tomato cages? Bags of wallpaper?"
And then as they pull up behind my house:
"Oh, look! Shingles! Haven't had bags and bags of those for awhile."
The trash guys should be grateful. They'd have at least a couple more bags of shingles to pick up if I hadn't sorted out all the little pieces of shingles and thrown them in a metal trashcan in the corner of my yard. See, those shingles make really good kindling in my fire bowl. There's something very satisfying (and maybe just a wee bit vengeful) about watching those damn shingles burn up as I'm kicked back in a chair drinking a cold beer. Which I plan to do a lot more of as soon as I finish the back wall of the house.