Honey, There's a Tractor in the Living Room

Well, after some minor delays, at 10:39AM yesterday my house became a pile of mulch -- a pile of very expensive mulch. A gaucho excavator named Manny climbed onboard his trusty yellow steed and proceeded to jump up and down on my house like it was Bozo at a trampoline party. If I had not been focusing so much on the somewhat queasy feeling in my stomach and my inability to blink, I may have better appreciated the art with which he shredded our 50 year old house in 45 minutes, all while dangling a cigarette from his mouth.

Most people ask me how I felt watching it happen. I'll tell you: I felt like crap, like I was perhaps making the biggest mistake of my life (even though I know I'm not). Between moments of detached voyeurism -- like watching a car crash about to happen and not being able to turn your head -- thoughts of "hey, wait a minute. This is my house!" jumped into my mind, only to be replaced moments later by the reality that it was too late to turn back now -- like speeding up before a turn -- so I might as well enjoy the ride and hope I don't crash.

I left as they started picking up my mulch-house and loading it into a dumpster. A few hours later, after all the workmen had gone for the day, I unlocked the chain link fence and walked the property. All that's left is some grass, the little shed I built for the cats that came along with my wife, and the large Sycamore tree that now looms larger than ever over the entire yard.

I wish I had millions of dollars so I could just keep the property exactly this way -- not build a house and make it a park for all the local kids to come play in. I think my old house would have liked it that way.

I started back to my car and reached into my pocket to fish out my keys. I noticed that I still had the key to my front door on the ring. I stood there for a second, staring at the lot, listening to the birds chirp and a dog bark from down the street. I took the key off of the ring, dropped it on the ground and covered it with some dirt, reminding myself that you should only keep what you really need -- everything else should be left behind.

(photo courtesy of Bret H. Thanks for the great shots!)