Recently, one of the top priorities in Houseland became moving things around in the backyard, which is almost more visible to people than the front yard, that contains two, big, pine trees. Right now, across the alley from us is the parking lot of the "Gift and Gas", which is the only gas station in town. Locals and tourists obviously frequent this location for gas, sodas, ding dongs, Colorado belt buckles and night lights (you think I'm kidding...).
When B (the previous tenant) lived on the property, in addition to the hoarding that extended through the entire backyard, he had a tall fence covered in an art-like installation of aggression towards the many persons he felt had screwed him over in some way. As I've mentioned in previous posts, this fence held upon it elaborate signs of anger and woe, nooses, even a toilet seat (you think I'm kidding...). The inception of this whole crazy house project started in that very backyard, where RJ and two of his friends had been hired to clean up.
Long story short: in the middle of the backyard clean up, one of RJ's friends had mentioned that the owner of the house had wanted to sell the structure and property for dirt cheap simply to not have to deal with it all anymore (it had been very close to being condemned). Though I'm anxious to see them now, I may have mentioned before that I was not allowed to see any of the "before" photos (or even inside the actual house) due to RJ's fear that I would wonder what in the name of Jeebus we had gotten ourselves into, and back out of the whole thing. But I do know this: that it was a complete shit show to say the very least.
In the last year, we've done a lot of work back there already. I've moved the same stack of random wood back and forth approximately 46 times (well, maybe three), and we've aggressively used a backhoe on it to remove the old addition and dig out a spot for the new one.
But back to privacy. We essentially have none back there. If we have the lights on, you can see right into the ground floor through our large glass door. Yes, we could hang some blinds, but it's low on the priority list for that particular spot--we've spent most of our winter evenings upstairs. We also found out that the new owners of the Gift and Gas may be starting their own remodeling project as early as tomorrow.
The new plan is to stabilize and move the garage (let's be honest, it's only big enough to be a tool shed, which we mostly cleaned out earlier this month) so that the length of it is parallel with the alley and then add some privacy fencing on either side, closing off the gaps. We will then add some high-altitude-loving grass and a small deck. RJ will re-side the garage (it's ugly as shiiiiiit) so it looks less like a white trash shop of horrors.
What remains one of the most satisfying things about these budget-friendly projects (usually costing only the paltry charge of a trip to the dump) is throwing. shit. away. I love it. I admit it. RJ has a slight tendency to want to hold on to certain things (for good reason--he makes old stuff absolutely sing in terms of design) but can easily be persuaded to let something go once I make "that face".
So, I spent yesterday once again hauling the pile of random wood to the other side of the yard to make way for the garage move, and created a pile of semi-organized "good stuff" and a nice big pile of "throw that shit out." We also raked leaves, filled in holes with rocks and soil and generally leveled everything out. Today, we actually put the pile of trash into the trash trailer. Sooooo gooooood.
Then I enjoyed a Dr. Pepper and a feeling of accomplishment.
You think I'm kidding...
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| Look, LOOK! It's even ground with a nice, organized pile of random wood. Ready for grass, yo! |
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| The pile for the dump. Ahhhhhhh. |
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| Gift and Gas parking lot across the way, with just the top salmon colored gas station building visible to the left. |
