If A Tree Falls In Your Front Yard Does It Mean It's Tuesday?

Last Friday we had a guy come out and give us an estimate to cut down a dead tree in the front yard. I was afraid that with these bouts of bad weather, high winds and rain, that we'd had the past few weeks, the tree would topple onto the house. Ii had visions of homeowners insurance denying the claim because insurance companies are whores, and because, well, the tree was dead and should have been taken down years ago so it'd be out fault,


Carlos was going to call a tree-cutter referred to us by Round-The-Way-Gays, David and Neal, and as he and I walked into the front yard he said to me:


How tall is that tree? About twelve feet?
TWELVE feet? Look at me....I'm six feet tall. Is the tree twice as tall as me?
I thought it was about twelve feet.
If it was twelve feet we could cut it down ourselves.


We step onto the lawn and I point to the dead tree--played in this picture by the thick red line because the actual tree was already down when I snapped it.


It's about forty or fifty feet tall.
I didn't know.


I had a flash of Carlos cutting down the tree and taking out two of the bedrooms and a bathroom while he was at it. I'm still shuddering at the thought.


Anyway, being the holiday weekend, the tree guy decided to come out this morning to cut it down. I figured I'd have to stay home most of the day to wait for him but he and his crew arrived at 7:30 AM and began working. The tree was down, and cut into sections before 8 AM.

And, as if I needed any proof that we couldn't have done this ourselves, the tree was standing just a couple of feet from this other, much smaller, much healthier, tree, and they brought it down without harming a single leaf on this beauty!
Now, all I need is a big axe--don't worry, honey, it's for the tree--and we'll have a nice stash of firewood come winter. And we still have the two bedrooms and the bathroom in one piece!