500 nails, 2 thumb sacrifices, 8 beers, 3 soy-free veggie burgers, 57 swallowed supplements, 1 flash flood & unmentionable amounts of cursing later, we have a cabin floor. tonight i vow to bff anyone with a damn nailgun. taught buddy to chase his tail on the command of "GET IT!" i feel guilty for mocking him, but am simultaneously delighted that we finally found something he's good at. much to my dad's dismay, "GET IT!" appears to be the only command he responds to properly.

Here we discuss Camus's perception of existentialism & whether or not right angles *really* matter.

IT IS POSITIVELY IMPOSSIBLE IT TO GET EXACT RIGHT ANGLES ON A BIG ASS GIANT RECTANGLE THAT WEIGHS A THOUSAND POUNDS, in case you were wondering.

we rented a post-hole-digger, a beast of a machine, a giant cork screw you hold onto for dear life as it jackhammers through the ground. we dug 8 holes, 8 very annoying & exhausting moments of my life.

my dad dropped the posts in the next day, filled the holes in with concrete & mud, then cut them all off level. we're building it off the ground so that we can crawl under & add insulation later, should the bare floor prove too cold for NC winters (i.e. cheap bastards).

the space is going to be 12'x20' with a slant roof & a loft, kinda like the XT-house shown here. there's a habitat-for-humanity recycle store in pittsboro that sells used windows/sinks/light fixtures etc from houses they've torn down. super cheap stuff, plus you can find some really fancy crap if you're there as often as we are. i got a big glass door & a 6'x6' window for the front side of the cabin, plus a little crank window for the loft. we'll add two more windows when we build the side walls.

UP THE PUNX!

DAY ONE: tool belt fitting. obviously my father doesn't share my same concern for fashion.

it rained for most of the day, so i talked The Pops into driving around pittsboro in search of good construction sites with free shit, assuring him it'd secure ample punk cred. we needed some scrap wood to use as markers for the 8 posts we'd be sinking into the ground, & needless to say, my dad's totally cut out for this punk stuff. we scored tons of free wood, plus a scrap staircase i'll cut down to fit my front door.

there's really nothing sweeter than hearing your dad scream "UP THE PUNX!" at 9am on a friday.