Getting Stuff Ready

First off, I hauled all those oak planks outta my garage. Heavy as heck, lemme tell ya. Counted every single one twice to avoid nasty surprises later. Totally underestimated how many trips I’d need with the wheelbarrow – my arms were jello after two rounds. Dug out my toolbox and realized half the screws were rusted shut. Drove to the hardware store muttering colorful words.

Prepping the Spot

Cleared out the backyard space where the volleyball net usually hangs. Found way too many rocks and stupid tree roots lurking under the dirt. Spent three hours just shoveling and leveling the ground with a rake. Raked until my palms got angry red blisters. Then laid down that plastic tarp stuff over the dirt to block weeds, weighed it down with bricks like the store guy said.

Slapping Planks Down

Started arranging the boards in rows, like puzzle pieces except all look identical. Got cocky after row five – skipped using the spacers. Bam! Ended up with crooked nonsense halfway through. Chucked the planks out, screamed into a pillow, started over with spacers every dang row. Drilled each screw in slowly thinking “don’t split, don’t split” every single time.

• Sweat: Constant. Stinging eyes.
• Angry neighbor: Complained twice about drilling noise
• Board casualties: Cracked three drilling too fast

Finishing Touches & Meltdowns

Reached the final row only to discover the last plank wouldn’t fit. Like it needed half an inch off. Borrowed a saw from Mr. Complainer next door – awkward. Sawdust flew everywhere, almost swallowed a mouthful. Then realized I forgot the corner trim pieces. More cussing. Finally hammered those trim strips around the edges with shaky hands.

The Big Win: Stepped back covered in dirt and sawdust. Did an experimental jump – the floor didn’t creak even a little. Tossed my volleyball high up watching it bounce perfectly flush off the oak. Grinned like an idiot. Totally worth six hours of pure frustration and one neighbor feud.