My deck behind my house is rotting through. When the roofers laid a tarp down on it, Nick actually fell through one rotten board. Thankfully, he didn't get hurt. And my chair keeps sinking into another board.
It's time for us to redo the deck. It really is.
So, why am I getting all nostalgic over losing my old deck with its moss and soft boards?
In just an hour, we're going start taking everything off the deck, the barbecue, the shelf of plants, my flowers, the hummingbird feeder, the table and chairs, and the bird baths. Then, we're going to unscrew all the planks to see what we have left of the structure. It should be okay since it was built with pressure-treated wood, but it might need a couple of new boards. The fascia of the steps needs a new board.
I wonder if Mike is going to replace the deck lights. I used to love having lighting on the deck. He might just leave that part out. I probably would, for simplicity. It stopped working about six years ago.
I'm also going to miss sitting on my deck while we're redoing it, yet I can have the guys bring my table and chairs down to the front of the house so I can relocate there for a bit. I wonder if the hummingbirds will relocate with me if I bring their food down.
I hate upheaval. I know my deck, with the recycled plastic surface, will be easier to walk on and will be easier to maintain. All I have to do when it begins to grow moss is pressure wash it. Easy peasy.
I'll especially love not having to watch where I put my feet for fear of falling through.
It's time.
So why am I mourning my old deck?
Mike designed and built this old deck for me, but he's going to rebuild the new one. In a week or so, I'll have a brand-spanking new deck to sit on, a lovely new place for my flowers, table and chairs. The birds won't care, will they?
I doubt it.
So, I don't get it. I'm nostalgic for something that's going to be improved in just a week. My old one was broken. I want to think I'll love my new deck.
What if I don't? What if it just doesn't feel like home?
Thank you for listening, jb
It's time for us to redo the deck. It really is.
So, why am I getting all nostalgic over losing my old deck with its moss and soft boards?
In just an hour, we're going start taking everything off the deck, the barbecue, the shelf of plants, my flowers, the hummingbird feeder, the table and chairs, and the bird baths. Then, we're going to unscrew all the planks to see what we have left of the structure. It should be okay since it was built with pressure-treated wood, but it might need a couple of new boards. The fascia of the steps needs a new board.
I wonder if Mike is going to replace the deck lights. I used to love having lighting on the deck. He might just leave that part out. I probably would, for simplicity. It stopped working about six years ago.
I'm also going to miss sitting on my deck while we're redoing it, yet I can have the guys bring my table and chairs down to the front of the house so I can relocate there for a bit. I wonder if the hummingbirds will relocate with me if I bring their food down.
I hate upheaval. I know my deck, with the recycled plastic surface, will be easier to walk on and will be easier to maintain. All I have to do when it begins to grow moss is pressure wash it. Easy peasy.
I'll especially love not having to watch where I put my feet for fear of falling through.
It's time.
So why am I mourning my old deck?
Mike designed and built this old deck for me, but he's going to rebuild the new one. In a week or so, I'll have a brand-spanking new deck to sit on, a lovely new place for my flowers, table and chairs. The birds won't care, will they?
I doubt it.
So, I don't get it. I'm nostalgic for something that's going to be improved in just a week. My old one was broken. I want to think I'll love my new deck.
What if I don't? What if it just doesn't feel like home?
Thank you for listening, jb
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