A new-garage day is here. And like I said before, it rained that day.
The main man (green truck) and his helper (white truck) arrive.
I asked white truck to cut out my paint samples. He did so, and now they're by the front door, while we think about what color of red to paint the house. Yes, still thinking about that.
As I was in the dining room grading fiction essays and fiction exams, I heard the crack as they lowered the old garage door onto white truck's truck. I quickly opened the door and snapped a shot. I asked green truck what happens to these doors. "Oh, they recycle them -- in Mexico," he said. "Probably not my door, with its holes cut out," I said. "You'd be surprised," he said.
No doors anywhere.
I have to say watching them from the doorway into the house (which I did to take breaks from the grading) was like watching young boys with tinker toys or Legos, or building sets.
Big door mostly done, little door still being assembled.
All done, all paid, and white truck and green truck leave.
I try the door up and down for fun. It's much quieter than our last door (ancient door and ancient opener). Every time Dave or I walk into the garage, we say something like "Wow. Windows." We're not used to having light when we open the door. Next up, next week: finish the painting (including the front door), install back door into backyard and get that painted. From here on out, no major changes, just the little stuff. I'll post up a photo of the house once everything's done.