Brace yourself, folks.

This is my house:

Here’s what you see: a slightly sad little cottage surrounded by tools, scrap wood, and things that are “going to the dump this weekend, I promise.”

You see crap under the porch.

You see crap on the porch.

You see the skeleton of scaffolding on the roof.

You see a mishmash of paint, some faded, some not, some nonexistent.

You see a landscape that looks like a bomb site.

You see a chicken.

Here’s what I see:

The shingling, people. The shingling is done.

There are no more shingles to be put on my house.*

I mean, yes, it took us so long to finish shingling that the stain has faded in some spots to the point of needing to be redone. But you know what? We were going to redo it anyway once all the shingles were up.  So that totally does not count.

Somewhere on here I promised to start writing about the housebuilding project again once the shingling was done.

Say it with me: the shingling is DONE.

*Actually, the shingling was completed in October. But I didn’t want to write about it until the rest of the barn board on the dormer was stained. It appears that is not going to happen until summer.  I can’t wait until summer. I’m declaring it done.