My wife got it in her head a couple of weeks back to do some major backyard landscaping renovations. The centerpiece of the work would include converting our old shed into a proper playhouse for the kids.

I loved the idea. I mean, who wouldn’t? We’re not using the shed for anything more than storing some old junk. And it wouldn’t take much work; just clean out the crap, tear down some boards, put up new ones, cut some overgrowth outside, new door, etc. Not a whole lot! It’ll be easy.

Okay, I never actually fooled myself into thinking it would be easy, but I didn’t think it would be a terribly complicated effort. And honestly, it isn’t. But it’s so far been a fairly interesting experience, as I will share with you now.

I started clearing out the shed by removing loose boards and bits of wood and junk that had been stored in the rafters by previous owners of the property. Then I cleared out our miscellaneous yardwork materials and began the work of removing interior walls. Fairly simple.

Every time I was finished working in the shed, I would blow my nose, and this dark crud would come out. It was kind of weird, and I suppose I should have paid more attention to it, but I figured it was just loose detritus floating around getting caught in my nose. Disgusting, sure, but not truly harmful. I started wearing a dust mask as I worked, and that took care of that particular problem.

That’s when I discovered — much to my surprise — that our little shed was at one time a coal shed. Apparently, they would haul in bushels of coal, store it in the shed, and come out for bucketfuls whenever required for their indoor heating needs.

I needed no more proof that the shed once stored coal than when I eventually saw it spilling out from behind the planks I was prying off the walls.

Mystery of the dark crud in my nose explained! I’ve probably already developed pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

The other interesting aspect of working on the shed has been the bees. Bumblebees, to be exact. They’ve been greeting me and watching me work so often that I figure they’re either really interested in the construction process in preparation for building their own playhouses for their tiny bee babies, or they have a massive hive underneath the shed that we have unwittingly disturbed. I’ve killed quite a few of the pests, but every time I work in one particular portion of the shed, I can hear the faint buzzing underneath, and I know they must be organizing a protest of my thoughtless and selfish actions against the innocent bumblebee community.

We’re calling an exterminator.

Now, I’m sure these sound like particularly whiny complaints, but I’m actually smiling as I write about this. I still love the idea of the playhouse, and I look forward to telling the kids (and the grandkids) the story of The Building of the Playhouse™ many, many times in the future. And once everything is said and done, I definitely look forward to the kids having a fun place in the backyard within which they can have pirate adventures and tea parties. Side by side, if they so desire, though I don’t know how keen pirates are on drinking tea. I know it sounds cliche, and people who don’t have kids really can’t understand the concept, but thinking about those kids smiling and playing in something we’ve built ourselves really does make all the pain and effort worth it.

I just hope I can get it done before winter.