Downstairs demolition 1: Dumpster delight

For a project that kicked off in February 2006 with the search for an architect, we had little to show for our efforts. We’d now hired a replacement architect and were growing impatient for some sign that this home would eventually be renovated.

What could we do? Prepare.

We began the sorting process on March 8. Actually, Matt had started earlier. I was more than a little resistant—until my husband told me to quit snarling and get with the program. I bared my fangs one more time for good measure and joined him downstairs to fill boxes and snap photos of items we hoped would find a new home.

The dumpster arrived Friday, March 14. Nephew Nick arrived on Saturday. A spectacular worker: charming, funny, uncomplaining and unstoppable. Like his Uncle Matt.

When you have a rented dumpster and access to teenage labor, you don’t have time to be sentimental—or environmental. You must survey all your stuff and decide: keep, donate or dump. Thus, it all had to go: fake art, hand-me-down and low-quality furniture long past its prime, leggy plants and played-out planters, a broken screen door, a stack of stiff shingles from the scary crawl space, knick knacks and do dahs—even Matt’s sports trophies.

By early afternoon, we took a break and ended up sitting on the couch, watching a Mets preseason game with unblinking eyes. That was quit enough heavy lifting for one day!

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