The porch of my dreams.

My dream house is a house with a front porch,american style.When I went to visit my friend Abigail in Georgia, I fell in love with her porch.I could have lived in that porch. Soon curiosity started to raise in the neighborhood around the peculiar guest who spent most of her time on the porch.The rumors quickly stopped when explained that the “porchfobiac” was an Italian living in Ireland and loving Irish summer.

Unfortunately,Ireland is no country for old porches. Frankly I am still wondering why as,lets face it,no other country could make better use of some shelter.
Anyway,this is the reality of the things but, because mother nature blessed me with a abundant dose of stubbornness, I have found the way to get my porch.

When we moved in the new house,the garden shed was already there and now it is really showing its age.We painted it twice,(and I am saying “we” only as form of pluralis majestatis), but now it is really on his last leg.The base is rotten and the roof could potentially collapse any time soon. When the time came to order the new one I put my feet down:it had to be a shed with a veranda,aka a porch.
Due to arrive last Monday,by coincidence just a day before my birthday,I had the entire week end to get prepared.

Saturday I started to power-wash the back patio area.The weather was glorious and I am pretty sure I didn’t fail to attract the hate of my neighbors that,had to enjoy the first week end of really nice spring weather at the sound of my pressure washer. I started at around 1.pm and finished at around 6.pm when I started to smell bbq.Once I turned off my machine,I also heard bottles been opened in the surrounding gardens,to celebrate the end of the evil noise.
The thing is,I didn’t actually finished my cleaning ,there was some job still to be done but I had to stop.Not only my back was crying to be relieved by the fatigue but also the pressure washer hose had enough and broke.Water was squirting everywhere.I sellotaped it at my best but still it was dripping and there was not enough pressure to keep going.
The traveling husband who had been instead very sedentary for the whole day, exception made for the movements of his head to follow the players of the Davis cup on tv, rushed to the diy shop to buy a new hose.It is still unclear if he did it more moved by the fear of coping with the noise for an other day or the idea of been on his own with his offspring for an other afternoon.Out of luck,when he got there ,they had just closed:the job had to be finished on Sunday.

Thankfully,there was very little left and it was quickly done.The weather was everything but glorious :The all four seasons passed over my head while cleaning but it definitely worth it.Wow, you need sunglasses now to look at those tails!I know, I am sometimes in shock myself at the thought of the things I can get excited about!

I am sitting in the drizzle in contemplating pleasure of the refine work I have just accomplished when I remember I need to empty the shed. Before install the new one,in fact, they have to dismantle and bring away the old one.
I am not concerned by this task as I did a pre-clearance and it shouldn’t be much left in there.It “shouldn’t”:exactly the correct verbal form as ,someone else, didn’t do his pre-clearance. I now firmly believe that there should be a law imposing men a limit to the amount of hunting paraphernalia they can own.I mean,how many hunting huts someone needs? I counted 5 and 7 folding chairs for pigeon stations along with a ridiculous quantity of decoys and at least 4 pairs of boots.
Making as much noise as I can, while moving the hunting equipment around, I am eventually successful on attracting the husband’s attention.He come at the window and looking at the empty shed he lifts his thumb up.I don’t replay with any gesture because instinctively the finger I would lift up it wouldn’t be my thumb.

He is now out ,I can hear him breathing behind me:”It looks good!So now I can remove the shelves ad disconnect the electricity?because is getting late,you know?”. Turning my head around Linda Blair style,I don’t speak so the green foam is forming inside my mouth won’t spill out.
I straightened my back at the sound of cracking bones and joints ,I give him an ok signal and I go inside.
I run a bath and dip myself in :I don’t want to be anywhere close in case the job with the electricity goes wrong.