Did the Earth Move For You, Darling?

This will look great on the resume.

Kathy and I had so much fun moving 12 tons of broken concrete that we thought we'd branch out into dirt. Last week, removing the concrete uncovered some old, forgotten plumbing in the backyard, some of which was still in use. Disturbing the dirt collapsed some of the oldest pipe, so we had to call the plumbers to replace it all. That became a two-day, two-man job, with one plumber crawling under the house while the other kneeled outside shouting directions. "This way! More to the left!"

To save a bit of money -- and because I'm stupid that way -- I dug out all the old pipe myself. The plumbers charge plumbers' rates to dig holes, so I figured that my unskilled labor was as good as theirs. I trenched the backyard to a depth of about four feet, piling the loose soil where (I hoped) the plumbers wouldn't need to work. The result was an ankle-breaking trench of death, sure to trap unwary trespassers, large animals, or visiting guests to the B&B next door.

Once the plumbing was completed -- thanks, Marc and Alfredo! -- Kathy and I got to fill the trench back in. Easier said than done. Mostly, that just means shoving the loose dirt off its pile and back into the hole whence it came. But you have to stop every so often and pack it down. Otherwise, it'll slowly sink and make ugly lumps in the backyard when you least expect it. So in keeping with the unskilled labor theme, we walk all over the dirt every few minutes and try to pack it down. It's a funny-looking dance, but we enjoy it.

The other half of the project is, naturally, digging new holes! At the same time that Kathy's tamping down the dirt from our plumbing adventure, I'm digging out the dirt from the ramp that runs down the side of our property to the side street. We're trying to even out the slope here in preparation for making it a proper ramp, so that we can roll the garbage cans down it safely.

So here we are, two grown and outwardly intelligent adults, shoveling dirt in opposite directions. I dig up dirt from the ramp, fill a wheelbarrow and take it to Kathy, who then throws the dirt back into the trench. For variety, we sometimes trade places. Digging a hole to fill another one. Isn't this the definition of futility? It's what my Dad would call donkey work. But by golly, we're good at it!