Today, let's play a game. We'll call it "Dumb or Daring?"Taking a chainsaw to the flooring in a family heirloom structure: Dumb or Daring?
Sawing through timbers that hold up the floors, walls, and ceiling of said family heirloom structure: Dumb or Daring?
Crawling around in the dirt and sand under the floor to set cement blocks that will hold up new timbers, which will serve as supports for said family heirloom structure, possibly for 80 more years: Dumb or Daring?
So far, the correct answer each time is Daring. I know that in my head. I know that to get to the rotten stuff, you have to take out what's covering it first. I've had cavities since I had baby teeth; I know about drilling out the crap, stopping the rot, cleansing the wound, blah blah blah. I know that we couldn't begin to see what was wrong with the foundation of the back part of the house without going through the floor, which, by the way, was seriously rotten in spots. So my logical brain said, "Hey, let's do this. It's best in the long term."
Meanwhile, my gut churned. Somewhere deep inside, I know that the sound of a chainsaw inside our family camp (heirloom! handed down through generations!!) can't be good news. I fight panic. I take deep, cleansing breaths and remind myself of all the logical stuff in the previous paragraph. And the non-logical part of my brain, the reptile part, which apparently is also verbal though it has pre-verbal roots, shouts "Dumb! DUMB!! The answer is DUMB! Seriously dumb!"
Often, I have to find something else to do while Roy wields the saw or lays the concrete blocks. I have made serious inroads in clearing out the brush that obscures the view of the lake from the front windows. I have several other projects in mind if the chainsaw comes out of its case again.
Also, time is a great teacher. Now that we're into the concrete block phase, I have hope. It's easier to believe that soon, fresh treated timbers will take the place of the cedar trees my grandfather felled and used as the foundation of this house. New joists will help bear the load of the floor, walls, and ceiling, which won't swag, sag, or leak. New plywood, in layers, covered by flooring of some kind, will make the back room strong and beautiful for the next 80 years.
Even my reptile brain sees that the danger is past and the good stuff is just around the corner. It's not quite ready to change its vote to Daring from Dumb, and I don't want it to. I like having a warning system that won't let me tie rubber bands around my ankles, jump off a bridge, and call that fun. But my reptile brain is willing to admit that maybe the line between Dumb and Daring can shift a little. At least for the next construction project. Maybe.
