I took off from work on Thursday and Friday and started building my 8 x 12 long awaited coop. I will post pictures soon. I made good progress and had the whole structure completed except for two narrow strips of plywood on the roof.
I was anxious to make the coop semi-weather proof so the sheets of OSB I had inside would not get wet. After work last night I got started.
I should mention that no one else was home but I was expecting my daughter to be home no later than seven o'clock.
I started a little after six and got the plywood down with no problems. I just wanted to put some tar paper on the seams and ridge to stop any rain from coming in that we might have before this coming weekend. So I put the roll of tar paper over my shoulder and climbed up onto the roof. (Do you see where this is going?).
As I was getting on the roof I accidentally kicked the ladder over.
No problem. My daughter will be home any minute. I put the couple of strips of tar paper down. I then contemplated jumping down from the lowest corner. It was only about seven feet high. I thought better of it since it has been a long, long time since my legs have had to put up with that abuse and I pictured me with an unfinished coop for the winter and a severely sprained ankle. No, I will just wait for my daughter to get home. Any minute now.
I thought about just tar papering the whole roof but I realized there were very few staples in my staple gun. So I sat. And I sat. And I sat. Like a fiddler without my instrument.
I saw my neighbor arrive home and thought for about 2 seconds calling to him for some help. We are not particularly friendly and embarrassment won out. Anyway, my daughter would be home any minute. She was already late.
I watched the last glows of sunlight give way to twinkling stars. Now I could not even see the ground to know where I would land.
And I sat.
8:20. My daughter drives into the driveway.
I called out "Lindsay, can you give me a hand?"
"Where are you"
"On the chicken coop" I said.
"Are you stuck?" she asked with great amusement.
"Ah, yeah".
And my kind compassionate daughter laughed so hard it took her five minutes to walk the 200 feet to the coop. She then texted her friends, who she happened to go out for some pizza with after work, about my predicament. My wife also had a good laugh when she got home from her class.
So as long as the word was spreading I figured I would share my misadventure with you.
I was anxious to make the coop semi-weather proof so the sheets of OSB I had inside would not get wet. After work last night I got started.
I should mention that no one else was home but I was expecting my daughter to be home no later than seven o'clock.
I started a little after six and got the plywood down with no problems. I just wanted to put some tar paper on the seams and ridge to stop any rain from coming in that we might have before this coming weekend. So I put the roll of tar paper over my shoulder and climbed up onto the roof. (Do you see where this is going?).
As I was getting on the roof I accidentally kicked the ladder over.
No problem. My daughter will be home any minute. I put the couple of strips of tar paper down. I then contemplated jumping down from the lowest corner. It was only about seven feet high. I thought better of it since it has been a long, long time since my legs have had to put up with that abuse and I pictured me with an unfinished coop for the winter and a severely sprained ankle. No, I will just wait for my daughter to get home. Any minute now.
I thought about just tar papering the whole roof but I realized there were very few staples in my staple gun. So I sat. And I sat. And I sat. Like a fiddler without my instrument.
I saw my neighbor arrive home and thought for about 2 seconds calling to him for some help. We are not particularly friendly and embarrassment won out. Anyway, my daughter would be home any minute. She was already late.
I watched the last glows of sunlight give way to twinkling stars. Now I could not even see the ground to know where I would land.
And I sat.
8:20. My daughter drives into the driveway.
I called out "Lindsay, can you give me a hand?"
"Where are you"
"On the chicken coop" I said.
"Are you stuck?" she asked with great amusement.
"Ah, yeah".
And my kind compassionate daughter laughed so hard it took her five minutes to walk the 200 feet to the coop. She then texted her friends, who she happened to go out for some pizza with after work, about my predicament. My wife also had a good laugh when she got home from her class.
So as long as the word was spreading I figured I would share my misadventure with you.
