On Sunday my brother-in-law Russell and family came to help us finish laying the “umbrella” (equivalent to roof on a normal house). We worked from 6 am to about 5 pm, completing everything but a few loose corners. Then it started to rain, so they left on their long drive home.
Almost immediately the storm turned into a gale, peeling layers of foam and plastic off our roof. Crystal screamed “No!” and flung herself onto the sheeting. Justin joined her, even though he was terrified of being sucked up by a tornado. (Not entirely unjustified. We had pieces of Joplin in our field.) I hauled in palettes to weigh it down whenever there was a break in the wind. We fought to save our work for almost an hour in the torrential rain. I fired up the backhoe and sloshed around in the mud, delivering a few scoops of dirt to tack down the north side.
Then the backhoe died.
We gave up for the night and decided to go into town for dinner and a comforting ice cream at DQ. As Crystal was turning the car around it fall into the deepest mud pit in our yard. Fortunately, the truck was up on the graveled portion of our driveway, so we still got away.
DQ was closed when we got there. We had to settle for the golden arches. Their lobby was closed, so we drive through and headed home.
We mostly saved the work. The next morning the excavators came, and we busted our butts trying to put everything together ahead of them. Now the building is safely under dirt. If there is ever a wind strong enough to harm it now, then it truly would be the end of the world.