Fingers crossed, my chickens will have a coop to live in soon. Hopefully this will happen some time before they start laying eggs.
I started building it this week. The coop, I mean. The process started off with my fella helping me but I fired him. Or he quit. Either way, he’s off the job. He wasn’t having fun anyway, so it’s for the best. How do I know he wasn’t having fun? Mainly I have an intuition for this sort of thing. Plus his language was colourful. How colourful? If his language was a candy it would be Skittles.
Overheard while my boyfriend was helping me:
“*&&%# stupid ##$%!“
“What do you mean it’s $%##! wrong??! $#@!&&”
“It’s *%#$in’ straight enough!”
“TAKE IT APART AGAIN??!! $%@#! SERIOUSLY??!!!”
“No. No, no, no &%^^$##$$@! NOOOOOOOOO. I’M NOT STARTING OVER! I WON’T &%$$ DO IT. You can &%^^$ it”
“I’m due a scheduled break now. Union rules. &^%%$#.”
Enter … my sister who has framing experience and thinks building a chicken coop is loads of fun.
Overheard while my sister was helping me:
“Do you like my tool belt? It’s pink. I like it too.“
“Oops. (32 times the first day)“
“No, I don’t need safety glasses. I have these – they’re Chanel.“
“Ow. (17 times the first hour)“
“This is my favourite tape measure. I love it.“
“Uh Oh! LOL, looks like we have to do it again.“
“Maybe we should have some chips and dip.”
“Uh Oh! LOL, I measured wrong again.”
“Huh. How’d that happen?”
“Oh no. Well, it’s not that bad. It just means we’re going to have to rebuild it all. Again. LOL“
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking my sister is “simple”. She’s not. She’s one of those happy-go-lucky people you hear all about in fairy tales. You know, the ones who usually get eaten by the monster but magically get vomited up by way of the monster’s nose, causing the monster to suffocate and die. Happy-go-lucky girl always saves the day. Plus, she really loves projects. She was the contractor on her own custom built house and she builds her own furniture in her spare time. Just for fun. Something as “cute” as building a chicken coop with absolutely no plans, a pile of wood and a mitre saw is her idea of Narnia.
And it was Narnia. The first day. By the second day the LOL’s were fewer and farther between. By the time my mitre saw crapped out, complete with billowing smoke coming from the motor, we were both happy to see it happen.
So like I said, fingers crossed, my chickens will soon have a place to live. Fingers crossed, before they lay an egg, they lay a sliding compound mitre saw.