Some little steps in the building process seem so huge that they catapult me into motion for days, sometimes weeks afterward.
Yesterday we took one of those steps. I finished securing that last pesky corner beam, and we moved my wagon.
It didn’t have far to go, but the amount of effort that it took to move the fucking thing certainly made it feel like it because I had to be difficult and insist that we turn the wagon around so that my door would be facing pretty green bushes (instead of a wood shed and the scrap metal heap) once it was parked in its new spot.
After much pulling (with the tractor), pushing (with our hands), and the almost-hitting-of-trees and other wagons, we deiced to drive the wagon out onto the street to turn it around at the next intersection. A student on his way to class stopped to take a picture. It is an incredibly bizarre sight, watching your house roll down the road.
After the move (taken from the same spot):
This morning I spent two hours jacking the wagon up and then propping it up on logs and stones that I collected from around the platz. Now even the water scale says that everything is even. The back tires hang half a foot from the ground, and the precarious corners (the ones where I replaced beams and probably generally fucked up the support system of the entire structure) are supported on two massive logs that I hope will prevent any further disaster.
Now the weather is tank-top perfect, and I am going to spend the afternoon finishing up the garden beds and fixing my bike.