I'm all for that walking lightly on the earth business unless it involves actual work on my part.

So when the spousal unit said a woman we know down the road was renovating her home and said we could have the cedar siding if we would tear it off, I said I thought that was a good idea.

Mostly I thought this was a good idea because, well, I thought the "we" in "if we would tear it off" would be the spousal unit. You can well imagine my horror when I found out that the "we" in "if we would tear it off" would include me.

And thus it was that at a stupidly early hour this morning I found myself sporting a tool belt and work gloves, armed with a nail puller and standing in front of Monique's house.

The spousal unit is a carpenter and very competent when it comes to matters of construction. He knows almost instinctively how much force you can exert on a pry bar to ease wooden siding up to work it free without breaking the wood by exerting too much force too soon.

It looked easy enough so I tried.

After my first board shattered it was decided that My Special Talent would not be in removing the siding, but in carrying the siding the spousal unit removed over to where it should be piled, pulling the siding nails from it, and stacking it.

I believe the technical term for a workman of this sort of competence is dog's body.

With gentle coaxing and judicious application of pressure at key points, the spousal unit got another board eased off. He handed it to me. Every foot or so along the top of it nails were sticking out several inches.

"Watch those nails," he said.

I made very sure that they were as far from me as possible, tucked the long board under my arm nail side outwards, turned and ...

I thwacked the spousal unit but good with the side of the board with the nails sticking out.

Fortunately, I only caught his shirt which made it a Laurel and Hardy moment rather than a Three Hours In The Emergency Room Of The Hospital Waiting For Stitches And A Tetanus Shot moment.

I hate it when he rolls his eyes at me that way. Really, there wasn't even a flesh wound. You'd think the man could express a little gratitude for that.

The rest of the morning went uneventfully. The boards are off, nails pulled and the wood now sits in the wagon of the tractor down at the wood drying shed on the home farm. After supper tonight we'll stack it and next year we'll re-cover our daughter's old playhouse in it, which will turn it from shabby shack to charming shabby shack.

Oh dear.

I just had a thought.

You don't suppose the "we" in "we'll stack it and next year we'll put it on our daughter's old playhouse" might include me again?

Oh man.

--Marn