While
going out to the garage to fetch a Stillson wrench early this spring, I noticed
that some sort of varmint had recently chewed a small entry portal at the
bottom of the door.
This
made me feel somewhat anxious, since I had no way of knowing if I ran the risk
of cornering a rabid, toothy rodent as I fumbled through the clutter.
I
had been putting off my door replacement project for too long. Since we intend
to repurpose the space into a production studio for our fledgling, hand-made
paper flower business, it was time I started by reconstructing the shallow step
into the space. After observing various masons at work, I felt confident that I
had sufficient skills for the rudimentary task.
One
Saturday I bought a bag of concrete, no need to say where, along with a very
flimsy plastic mixing trough, and set out to work.
First
I dug a hole. Then I constructed a plywood form and mixed up the cement.
The
80 lb. bag made enough mix to neatly fill the form. I even tossed in a short
length of rebar for reinforcement. Later, I went back and bought a 60. lb bag
of mortar mix to set the stones in place. I mixed up the whole bag, carefully
set the stones and found myself with 55 lbs of leftover wet cement.
Thinking
quickly, I remembered another sink hole/varmint entry on the far side of the
garage. I picked up the mixing tub and carried it around the building and the thin,
plastic trough began to crack under the weight of the wet cement.
When
I was younger I could lift pretty much anything in my path but half way through
this journey I suddenly realized I had outlived my ability to carry heavy loads
in my arms.
The
varmint hole now contains the overflow of my project and the step came out much
better than I had predicted, but my back still aches from the effort. My flabby
arms and weak back no longer pose a threat to beer kegs, engine blocks or tango
partners.
I
have three days off next week. If it isn't raining, I intend to make a new door
for the garage with a section of sheet metal fashioned into a kickplate to dull
the ever-present rodent teeth in their pursuit of the inside of my garage.
If
the lumber I need to buy for the project is too heavy, I know now I'll have to
make two trips from my truck.
Gym, schmym. ben.guerrero@sbcglobal.net
