24) I Dig It

“I’m picking up the tiller tomorrow. We have it for 24 hours.”

“I’m sure that will be more than enough time. Maybe we can even use it up front to prepare the flower beds for next year?”

David hesitated for a second, “I don’t know Vaness… let’s see how far we get in the back first.”

At this point you and Jackie hadn’t yet had the talk… the talk where she had told you that one of your biggest flaws… (you had braced yourself for this) and even joked, “Nothing… I have no flaws because I’m perfect,” before she said… “Riiiiiight…” then proceeded to tell you that you absolutely SUCKED at estimating how long a project would take.

At that point you were willing to concede… maybe you weren’t entirely perfect… “Close…” you had told her.

“Sure.” She laughed.

************************************************

The plan was to till the lawn away from the church. Currently the lawn was graded towards the church’s foundation, a little mini ravine had etched itself along the old stone. The basement wall was still very damp… the goal was to figure out how and where the water was coming in and you had both decided that you would start with the most obvious, easiest, and cheapest fixes for the water problem.

You were excited because you had for years, wanted to construct a dry riverbed. You had seen them before, probably on Pinterest and had told David about them. Your home in Florida had never been conducive to the construction of one… but this yard with the slight pitch towards the back of the property would be perfect. And unlike Florida… you would most definitely not need to purchase rocks for the project.

David picked up the tiller the next morning and it was your and Jackie’s job to follow behind him as he turned the soil, picking up rocks and pitching them into an ever growing pile by the garden beds and then later raking the soil up towards the church. She would be heading back home in another day and you were more than happy for her help with ‘rock duty.’ You wanted to add soil to the area next to the foundation while grading down towards the opposite fence and the back edge of the property.

The dry riverbed had been not only something that you had wanted, but something that you were all beginning to see as necessary. There was an existing French drain system but it wasn’t draining properly and you still had yet to even locate where it was draining to. That was a problem.

The tilling itself also proved to be problematic… the rocks, the scope of the project, the amount of soil that needed to be raked and moved had quickly turned this from an afternoon project to a massive undertaking (a common theme at this point).

“I don’t think this is going to work out.” You were about three hours into picking up rocks and tossing them into the now large pile. Sometimes there was a brick that would have to be tossed in an adjacent pile. David had turned off the tiller and stood now with it balanced against his leg, the tiller’s blade deep, but not nearly deep enough you had all noticed, to do what you needed to do… he shook his gloved hands as if to relieve them from cramping.

“I don’t think so either,” He said.

You had been shoveling and raking the rich soil to grade it away from and up to the church’s foundation and your arms, neck and back were all but screaming in revolt. “The amount of dirt that we’re having to shovel… We could work on this for months… I’m about spent already.”

“I think you’re right. I’ll bring the tiller back and we’ll have to rent some heavier equipment.”

“Like what?” You had no clue what the next plausible solution was for grading the earth and creating the riverbed after the failed tiller run.

“I think we need an exavator. Probably a skid steer too.”

“Ok… do you know how to use either of those things?”

“Enough.”

“I’m assuming we would do the weekly rental?” You were beginning to realize that the cost difference in the one to two day rental wasn’t all that much less than the week long rental and also that Jackie was right… you absolutely sucked at coming up with a realistic timeframe for projects. You were starting to learn that however long you thought a project might take, to basically multiply that by ten (to start).

“Yes.”

“Walk me through this… we rent the excavator, and dig out the dry river bed… use it to pull up any of the old broken French drains… and then the following week we would rent th…”

“No. We’re renting both at the same time. They can fit both on one truck so we’d save a couple hundred bucks on the delivery and pick up charges that way.”

“Ok. Well do you think it’s worth doing that? Because are you really going to have time to do the excavation, then do the skid steer stuff… in just a week’s time.”

“I’m not doing the excavation.”

“You just sai…”

“I’m saying that you’re doing the excavation.”

“ME?”

“Yup. You always said that you wanted to try one and that you’d probably be good at it because of how meticulous you get about everything… so now’s your time to shine…”

“Yeah but…” you were a bit nervous. Sure, you had really wanted to try operating an excavator, and you did think that with some practice you probably would enjoy it and not be half bad at it… but in your little fantasy land, that had been on someone else’s watch working on an easy, inconsequential little project to start. “I’m kind of nervous.”

David shrugged, “Well… I’m not going anywhere near the foundation because I’ll probably fuck it up… so it’s your turn.”

“Wait??? But you’re nervous about fucking it up and you know what you’re doing??”

“You’ll pick it up quick. Or would you rather take on the skid steer? It’s more physically difficult, you’ll get bounced around a lot… figured with your shoulder being messed up…”

“Fuck. I guess we’re learning how to operate an excavator then. No pressure, of course.”

“Sure. No pressure.”

**********************************************************

When the truck came to drop off the skid steer and excavator you were already dressed and waiting. You were a bit nervous about the whole thing. What if you really fucked this up when you were pulling out the broken French drains? You had pictured accidentally grabbing one of the foundation’s footings and a huge crack like in some kind of Coyote and Roadrunner cartoon suddenly racing up the entirety of the church, through the roof and then back down the other side. The bricks dramatically crumbled and rained down all around you. You would look towards the viewers, a look of total disbelief on your cartoon face and you’d hold up a sign that would say, “FUCK.” Maybe not… if this were Looney Tunes it would probably have to be… “OH NO…” or “YIKES”… though that didn’t seem indicative enough of the imaginary situation’s gravity… “FUCK” sounded far more reasonable in a situation like that. You thought about Wile E. Coyote… fucker was getting tossed off cliffs, anvils to the head, getting blown to smithereens and never once did he drop an ‘F” bomb… and then you thought that he also never tore out a 130 year old church’s footer stone and cracked the entire building in half either.

You finished up your hot tea in the foyer. It was unusually cold in the shade that morning. The sun was warm but you could almost smell a swiftly approaching winter in the shade. You had put on multiple layers and your heavy winter coat. You would be thankful later on when the ‘quick’ dig soon turned into a project lasting nearly till dusk.

When the driver rode the skid steer onto the lawn, both pieces of equipment now on your property, you took a deep breath and stepped outside and walked over to David and the driver. He was busy giving David a lesson on the skid steer… and was just finishing up when he turned, saw you and you both said, “Hello,” when he asked David if he had ever used the excavator. David said that he had.

The driver asked if he wanted a refresher and before David could respond, “He doesn’t need the refresher. I’m going to be the one operating the excavator. Show me. I’ve never used one before.”

He looked a little surprised but didn’t let on too much if he was… “Surely there had to be plenty of other women in town who decide to take on a massive project like this without being privy to Excavation 101,” you had thought to yourself.

He showed you the controls, the throttle, the foot pedals, the choke, the ballisters, and then motioned for you to hop in. It was much more of a climb than a hop, but you were quickly in the seat and turning the key just like he had showed you, turning the choke so that the excavator would operate and he walked you through the basics again. You had been thankful for that on account of being a much better learner when you were actually doing the hands on work versus taking it in through dictation.

When he was done walking you both through everything, he wished you both luck, walked back into the massive delivery vehicle and drove off.

“So that’s it then? I’m certified to use this now huh?” Before laughing and adding, “You think he wishes everyone ‘good luck’ on their projects?”

David laughed, “Probably not.” The two of you devised a game plan… you would first dig out the old French drains next to the foundation, then remove soil in a line parallel to the church roughly ten feet from the foundation and move that up towards the foundation, filling in the little weather worn ravine and creating a slope that was highest at the church gently rolling down to the dry river bed and then towards the back of the building. David would use the skid steer to push all of the excavated dirt into place. THAT. Was the plan.

Except that it wasn’t long into the plan, you doing your best to keep the excavator’s shovel away from the foundation as you dug out the old French drains that you both observed a problematic new finding… the stone and mortar behind the gutters had deterioriated so badly that one could put their hands through the joints and into the foundation in far too many places. Surely this HAD to be the explanation for the basement’s water issue: perhaps the French drains had backed up so badly that they had leeched into the mortar over time and damaged the foundation… eventually making its way inside. THIS had to be the water problem explanation you had been looking for.

Because the wet spot in the basement’s interior wasn’t confined to right behind the gutters though, you decided that simply excavating out around the gutters might not fully rectify the situation and so a new plan was devised: you were going to excavate around the entire church’s North foundation wall… a span of nearly 100 feet.

“Whatever you do though Vaness, don’t pull out any of those footer stones. You’ll know when you get close to them.”

“How?” You were getting nervous, the excavator had way more of a learning curve than you had anticipated… your movements were still jerky, sometimes you’d hit the wrong lever and the bucket would swing too quickly to the wrong side.

“You’ll feel them.”

“Like when I’m tearing them out from the foundation and the entire church’s wall starts crumbling?”

“It’s not going to happen like that… just don’t dig below them… you don’t want any voids under the footer.”

You spent the next eight hours excavating over 85 feet of tough dirt, stone, and what you both assumed had probably been a paved parking lot or driveway under the lawn. You even tussled with a bunch of incredibly thick and heavy concrete slabs (the excavator sometimes tipped precariously under their weight) that had they been longer, you would have been certain you were ripping off the tops of burial crypts.

You and David were never able to figure out what the thick, large perfectly poured slabs of concrete had been used for… you were also, when the rental equipment had to go back, sad that you hadn’t planned for them better and somehow incorporated the slabs into the yard, possibly using them as terraced steps into the workshop rather than plowing them to the back of the yard where they were partially covered with the excess dirt from the foundation. Hindsight was a bitch.

By the time you were done it was nearly dark. The dry river bed hadn’t even been started. You and David had just moved in tandem, he in the skid steer and you in the excavator slowly digging down to the footer stones… almost exactly where David had said they’d be, roughly five feet down.

There were a few times that you were certain that the bucket’s lip had found its way under the footers, your stomach would leap up into your throat, you’d brace for the entire church to give, the building crumbling around you… except that when you accidentally swung the bucket into the side of the church, way more quickly and with much more force than you had intended for the direction you were intending the bucket to go… your ‘accidentally demolishing the church’ fears were quickly laid to rest. The excavator had lurched back with a loud THWUMP… and the church had easily stood it’s ground, not so much as a damaged brick. You weren’t going to be needing that “FUCK” sign… at least not for this project… maybe at a later date… but today? You were feeling pretty solid (pun intended) about the building’s structural integrity.

You were rubbing your hands together quickly in a vane attempt to warm up. Sitting all day in the shade in 40 something degree temperatures on your cold medal steed had chilled you to the bone. The sun was quickly sinking in the west, the shadows long and numerous took over the entire church’s lawn.

“Do we have to worry about the dirt falling back in on us… when we jump down into this pit?” You were motioning to the temporary ‘moat’ as you had dubbed it, the foundation now exposed down to the footer.

“No. We’re good. You have to start grading a certain way once you get over a depth of five feet, so we’re fine.”

“Ok good,” you had carefully traversed the least steep incline you could find into the moat. “There’s a ton of damage around the gutters. Look at how far I can stick my hand in over here!”

“I know.”

“This was a bitch to dig up. I don’t want to do it again. I’m almost thinking that if we have this much patching to do, and the foundation is already exposed that we should just go ahead and waterproof the foundation with that waterproofing shit.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea.”

“I’m going to do some research tonight and figure out what we need. If I can grab it from Lowe’s I’ll pick the stuff up tomorrow and we can get this knocked out and finish up the river bed and backfill all this shit.”

“Ok… I gotta go in though Vaness, I’m physically exhausted, that skid steer kicked the shit out of me, I’m at my max for the day.”

“Same. You can shower first. I want to check out some more pit shit,” you had motioned to the long exposed foundation wall as David easily used his long gait to his advantage, scaling the trench with just a few steps. He was far more sure footed in precarious situations than you were.

“You know what I was thinking?” You said, David’s back to you as he walked to the French doors off the laundry room.

“We’re going to have this shit all done and situated by the end of the week!”

“Maybe,” said David, who was far less optimistic than you were.

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The waterproofing of the exterior’s foundation had proved to be far more of a task than you had accounted for. You still very much sucked at estimating the length of a project. You should have been prepared for the afternoon project to quickly turn into three full days (old habits die hard), except it took you by surprise. By the time it was done you were so thankful to get through it. The work had been hard (the stuff was so thick and due to the quickly dropping temperatures, the wall was barely at its temperature threshold for taking a coat of the tar like substance). You had truly gotten this project in with just days to spare.

When the two of you were peeling off your tarry outer layer of coveralls in the laundry room you had asked David if he thought that the waterproofing coat would have enough time to cure before the forecasted rain tomorrow.

“I hope so.”

“You know, I was thinking that now that the foundation has been excavated and the waterproofing coat applied… that when it rains here, that we really shouldn’t have anymore water coming into the basement. There’s no soil for it to fall into and leech into the walls plus we just waterproofed the walls so any water dripping down from the building shouldn’t make its ways in either. If we’re going to have any water intrusion on this wall… from this point on, it should just be from the footer down.”

“Hopefully.”

“What do you mean? How else would we have water coming in if it’s not soaking through all the holes in the ground.

“We’ll see.”

You were annoyed by his pessimism.

He was probably just as taken aback by your unwavering optimism.

Which somehow, when you bounded down the steps to the basement after you woke up to a heavy rain coming down outside stood steadfast, even after you threw open the thick wooden doors to inspect the basement’s demoed walls only to be greeted by a large swath of soaked stone and mortar. You had felt like a kid at Christmas who had torn down the steps to get their gifts, only to be greeted by heaps of shiny coal.

“Well son-of-a-fucking-bitch,” you had said outloud in utter shock. The walls were soaked, “This doesn’t make any fucking sense!!! Where in the absolute fuck is the water coming in???” You wanted to know before sighing… you refused to admit defeat. Defeat wasn’t even an option. Damnit.

“Ok… welp… Vanessa 0… Water 1. You got me. But this isn’t over. I’m going to figure this out… just so we’re both on the same page and all,” You had said out loud to the massive empty room with the soaking wet wall.

You were beginning to think that the only way to actually solve a problem like this was to be both stubborn enough, and maybe even foolish enough to think that you could… or as someone else might say: really optimistic.

Below: still thinking at this point (top left and middle) that I was going to fix this problem with a shovel or pull out the French drains by hand. Adorable really . Top right: the soaking wall. Bottom: David and I conceding that the tiller wasn’t going to do shit.