Downstairs demolition 4: Drill Driver of Destiny

Demolition takes brute strength combined with an understanding of engineering and physics. Matt’s job was detaching things from the house. My job was to get these things out of the house.

In other words, he played the role of Master; I was the Stair Master. Nineteen interior steps connect the upper and lower levels. There are 19 exterior steps from the back to the front yard. Neither has a consistent rise and run. One must traverse either set to get debris from the downstairs to the dumpster. (The second dumpster arrived on Friday, April 4.)

I had to decide whether my approach would be fewer trips with more weight or less weight and more trips. My hands are each 6.5 inches long—not a lot of carrying capacity—so more trips it was. To avoid scratches by yucky things, I alternate holding everything carefully away from me with contorting my body away from the things.

My other job is to play fetch. The other day, presumably as a tribute to Tenacious D, Matt asked for the Reciprocating Saw of Destiny. Over time, he needed the Drill/Driver of Destiny, Phillips Head Screwdriver of Destiny, Crow Bar of Destiny and, near the end of the day, the Broom of, yes, Destiny.

Although I’ve embraced my destiny as a Helper Monkey, I’m not always gracious in my acceptance of direction. Like the times I feel compelled to quote Falco before doing as I’m asked:

Er wird dich anschau'n
und du weißt warum.
Die Lebenslust bringt dich um.
Alles klar, Herr Kommissar?

On a recent Saturday, our shift began at 8:10 a.m. By 2 p.m., I hated everything and everybody. Making clear that I was a knowledge worker, I demanded to know when the crew of laborers would finally arrive. Matt countered cheerfully that we “were getting a good workout.” I silently turned my head towards him, to which he replied, “Don’t look at me with the ‘evil eye.’ You need to look at me with loving eyes.”

I tried it. It worked. We continued demolition and extraction until 4:15 p.m.—time for a mad dash to the shower.

How much money did we save by doing this work ourselves? Certainly enough to pay for a massage. So at 5 p.m. we were laying side-by-side at the Urban Muse, having our sore backs and muscles attended to by professionals. Then we filled up on Italian at Café Navona.

After all, we had to be in top shape for the Sunday shift.

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