baymule
Sustainability Master
SCORE!! I am sooooooo excited!! Last week I bought 31 pieces of used corrugated galvanized tin 26"x20' from a co-worker for $250 and he even delivered it! A few pieces had rusted holes all the way through, but that can be cut off. With the small stack of tin in our garage, we now have enough to build a 36'x36' barn. We have 18 telephone poles we scavenged several years ago and we have been scrounging up used lumber and lumber from the reject pile at Lowes. YAH-HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A barn is looking like reality now.
I even have DH in the scrounging act. He will drive through Lowes parking lot on the way home, looking for possibilities.
He called me yesterday at work, he was listening to the local Metrofair radio classifieds, where people can call in with things they want to sell or buy. He found us another deal on some used tin. I went and picked it up this morning. 18 pieces ranging from 16' to 10' for $150 or about 50 cents a foot. DEAL! I now have it unloaded on our land, safely stowed away.
Now for the funny part. I immediately noticed an old doggy odor.
Not as young versus old dog, but as in a lot of dogs were here, but not anymore. Then the aroma of mothballs assaulted my already offended nostrils. Judging from the piles of stuff laying around, I expected to smell dead rats next, but I guess they are all still alive and well. Almost done loading the tin, I felt something on my back under my T-shirt. I scratched around until I got it and it was a flea. I looked down and my blue jeans were brown jeans, crawling alive with FLEAS!!! 
I started slapping my jeans with my work gloves, trying to get them off. I'd knock 'em off, more would jump on. AARRGH! I ran to the middle of the street, entertaining the idea of stripping naked, and just as quickly rejecting it because I had a vision of myself getting arrested for doing the naked flea dance. In our little town, such activities are frowned upon.
I reduced the brown wave to a few hoppers and realized the truck was still in this idiot's yard. Moronic imbecile tin man just kinda laughed and said "Them fleas are really bad this year." Ya' THINK??
I told him, "You coulda given me warning." 
To which Mr Filthy McNasty Fleaman replied, "They don't really bother me." Looking around and the bare dirt yard, the 2 little dogs on the porch (you know they go in the house and drop fleas) I figured he's probably right, he must be immune. And probably carries bubonic plauge, anthrax, black plauge and every flea-bite borne disease there is.
DH had a spray bottle of Cedarcide in the door of his truck
(gotta love this man) and I soaked myself down in it. I rolled up my pants leg and sprayed under as far as I could. I held the waistband out and sprayed down as far as the flea elixer would fumigate. I sprayed under my shirt. The old saying ran through my mind, "May the fleas of a thousand camels invade your armpits." Yes, I sprayed there too. I sprayed my hair. I sprayed my thoughts reaching into next week. I sprayed the cab of his truck to make sure I wouldn't share my insect adventure with DH. I drove off smelling like a mummy stored in Grandma's cedar chest for the last 40 years. I had to keep the windows down so I could breathe.
After getting home and taking a shower, scrubing down with all the dog shampoo, gasoline and wire brush, yard bug spray and muratic acid, I inspected myself. At the top of my socks are rings of red flea bites. My stomach looks like I belly flopped in poison ivy. My posterior looks like a bad case of diaper rash, and no, I am NOT that old yet.
Scattered about playfully is lots of random bites like the fleas were so excited to have FRESH blood instead of the same tired old Mr Filthy McNasty Fleaman and his 2 dogs. I slathered down in aloe vera gel with lidocaine, feeling like I just got slimed by Nickledeon.
I KNOW they are all gone, but I still feel the nasty little buggers crawling all over me. I'll be itchy all week......
I even have DH in the scrounging act. He will drive through Lowes parking lot on the way home, looking for possibilities.
He called me yesterday at work, he was listening to the local Metrofair radio classifieds, where people can call in with things they want to sell or buy. He found us another deal on some used tin. I went and picked it up this morning. 18 pieces ranging from 16' to 10' for $150 or about 50 cents a foot. DEAL! I now have it unloaded on our land, safely stowed away.Now for the funny part. I immediately noticed an old doggy odor.
Not as young versus old dog, but as in a lot of dogs were here, but not anymore. Then the aroma of mothballs assaulted my already offended nostrils. Judging from the piles of stuff laying around, I expected to smell dead rats next, but I guess they are all still alive and well. Almost done loading the tin, I felt something on my back under my T-shirt. I scratched around until I got it and it was a flea. I looked down and my blue jeans were brown jeans, crawling alive with FLEAS!!! I started slapping my jeans with my work gloves, trying to get them off. I'd knock 'em off, more would jump on. AARRGH! I ran to the middle of the street, entertaining the idea of stripping naked, and just as quickly rejecting it because I had a vision of myself getting arrested for doing the naked flea dance. In our little town, such activities are frowned upon.
I reduced the brown wave to a few hoppers and realized the truck was still in this idiot's yard. Moronic imbecile tin man just kinda laughed and said "Them fleas are really bad this year." Ya' THINK??
I told him, "You coulda given me warning." To which Mr Filthy McNasty Fleaman replied, "They don't really bother me." Looking around and the bare dirt yard, the 2 little dogs on the porch (you know they go in the house and drop fleas) I figured he's probably right, he must be immune. And probably carries bubonic plauge, anthrax, black plauge and every flea-bite borne disease there is. DH had a spray bottle of Cedarcide in the door of his truck
(gotta love this man) and I soaked myself down in it. I rolled up my pants leg and sprayed under as far as I could. I held the waistband out and sprayed down as far as the flea elixer would fumigate. I sprayed under my shirt. The old saying ran through my mind, "May the fleas of a thousand camels invade your armpits." Yes, I sprayed there too. I sprayed my hair. I sprayed my thoughts reaching into next week. I sprayed the cab of his truck to make sure I wouldn't share my insect adventure with DH. I drove off smelling like a mummy stored in Grandma's cedar chest for the last 40 years. I had to keep the windows down so I could breathe.After getting home and taking a shower, scrubing down with all the dog shampoo, gasoline and wire brush, yard bug spray and muratic acid, I inspected myself. At the top of my socks are rings of red flea bites. My stomach looks like I belly flopped in poison ivy. My posterior looks like a bad case of diaper rash, and no, I am NOT that old yet.
Scattered about playfully is lots of random bites like the fleas were so excited to have FRESH blood instead of the same tired old Mr Filthy McNasty Fleaman and his 2 dogs. I slathered down in aloe vera gel with lidocaine, feeling like I just got slimed by Nickledeon. I KNOW they are all gone, but I still feel the nasty little buggers crawling all over me. I'll be itchy all week......
