Workin' steady while gettin' nuthin done

Last week the neighbour up the hill gave me a hand re-arranging my fleet of parts vehicles, primarily to facilitate the tow truck that was coming to take half the fleet for scrap. One of the keepers, at least for now, is the F-150 that once belonged to my Dad.

It was on axle stands at one time, but one had collapsed and the front end was sitting in the dirt on the disc brakes. In my efforts to jack it up I ended with my jack stuck under the truck.

I went to Canadian Tire and bought a second jack so I could retrieve the first one. Before I could get around to it, four straight days of rain descended upon us.

So I focused on indoor jobs, number one at this time of year being to rodent-proof the house. We don't want a repeat of last winter, when the chipmunks would give you a nod as they nonchalantly strolled through the living room.

I'd used spray-foam insulation generously a year ago to seal off where I thought they might get in, but now I want to get those spots I missed, and they're mostly in the 100+ year old stone foundation. While I'm down there, and having three more days of rain in the forecast, I get to thinking this would be a good time to de-clutter some of the shit that's accumulated down there.

That worked out ok for what I could just stuff in garbage bags. Then I got to the old Cascade 40 water heater. By rights I should have had the plumber take it out when he installed the new one, but you're so grateful to even get a plumber to make a house call you don't want to burden them with extra demands.

I'd forgotten all about it, but there's a back stairwell out the basement into the woodshed that I wanted to seal in my anti-chipmunk campaign. I open the door, and there it is!

In my prime I'm sure I could have muscled that tank out of the stairwell onto the woodshed floor, but I'm more cautious these days. After all, if you can blow a retina straining to take a dump, what havoc might you wreak on your body tossing a hot water heater around?

No thanks!

Then I had a brain-wave! I could use the new hydraulic jack to lift the tank high enough that I could tip it into the woodshed! 

Brilliant!

Lucky for me, the previous and only other owners of Falling Downs had left a stack of bricks down there from the original construction. I got the jack under the tank and began to lift it. Unfortunately, the jack only has about 6" of lift. I could lift it enough to get a couple of bricks under it. Then I'd remove the jack, put a couple of bricks under it, and repeat.

That stairwell had a cement floor at one time, but when we used to heat with wood we'd toss the firewood down there. Between woodchips and bark, the floor is now a bed of mulch. The higher I got that water heater, the more wobbly the entire edifice got. 

By the time I had it two feet off the ground the operation was looking pretty dodgy, and I had another two feet or so to go before I hit the tipping point.

As I'm dinking around with the jack under this tottering water heater in virtual darkness, it occurs to me that I wouldn't see the tank falling till it crushed my skull.

Time for Plan B!

Fuck it!