Shed's dead, baby. Shed's dead.

Wonder bar, mallet, screwdriver, elbow grease, two hours.



Here's more of the sequence.

Direct quote:
Me: I've got beer and cola in the fridge, you want any?
Sarah: Haven't had my coffee yet. Let me get through that, *then* I'll be ready for a beer.

I swear, I did work too. I just also took all the pictures.

And of course, after doing all this, we looked around and decided there's probably a better place to put a shed. On the bright side, I've got scrap metal to sell and a nice little clearing (once I figure out how to get these ginormous timbers up and away) for a garden or a place to sit.