If you, like millions of others, are waiting with bated breath to discover the ending to my landlady’s pool demolition project (and who wouldn’t be? It’s a riveting tale), wait no more.
Without further ado: the final installment.
On Monday, driving into the driveway after work, I dodged two piles of soil, and the pile of rebar and concrete that hasn’t budged since it was jackhammered from the pool several weeks ago.
On Tuesday, I dodged three piles of soil, the pile of rebar and concrete, and a new pile which consisted of boulders, pieces of wood, scraps of plastic, and a work glove.
On Wednesday, I dodged the same three piles of soil, the same garbage pile of rebar and concrete, the same mystery pile of boulders, wood, plastic, and glove, and a new collection of two blue wheelbarrows, two shovels, a giant rake, a pick ax, and a steam roller (without the steam). In the back yard I noticed a half dozen unopened bags of organic top soil that someone had flung around the perimeter of what was once the pool, waiting for someone to open them and distribute the contents.
On Thursday, the piles of soil had mysteriously vacated the driveway. Also missing: the wheelbarrows, rake, pick ax, shovels and steamroller. All of those items, I discovered, were now in the backyard.
On Friday, the guys arrived.
The guys from the landscape company that my landlady hired to complete this demolition project by February 25.
It was now March 27.
Unlike the previous landscape guys, these guys worked. They did not have cell phones on which to text updates. They did not have cigarettes on which to puff. It was just two guys in jeans and T-shirts, one of them wearing a huge sombrero, who carted wheelbarrows of dirt from the driveway to the back yard, spread it around with the rake, and steamrolled it without the steam. They scattered seed for lawn, ripped open the bags of top soil, scattered it by the handful, turned on the sprinklers, and stood back to admire their handiwork.
Then, in a magnificent display of manliness, the guy sans sombrero rested his index finger against one nostril and blew an impressive amount of snot out the other. Both men climbed into a truck and drove away.
The piles of rebar, concrete, boulders, wood, plastic, and work glove are still in the driveway, along with the blue wheelbarrows, the pick ax, the shovels, the steamroller without the steam, and a layer of dirt blanketing the asphalt, the nearby oak trees, and the row of tulips in front of the house.
But the project, at long last, is now complete.