Yesterday I finally cracked the shits at the palm tree that was rubbing against the gutter and making horrible squeaky noises. I decided to cut it down. This was hard because (a) trees are fucking heavy (b) there's potential for significant property damage (c)there's a good chance I'd have to call an ambulance but wouldn't be able to do so because I'd have a tree lying on top of me.
Despite these factors I powered on. Katy was of the opinion that we should probably get a professional to do it. She was probably right but that would cost money, be a pain organising and not be any fun at all. So with a rusty hacksaw, a couple of ropes and a bit of Aussie ingenuity we went for it.
Cutting down a tree is a testing time for any relationship. Not only do you have to try not to kill your partner, you also have to try to keep calm while debating different lumberjacking theories, trying to hold up a ridiculously heavy tree and keep the roof in tact. I think we did okay. Not only did we conquer nature but we also managed not to yell at each other that much or require any medical attention.
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