I'm not a big fan of things changing. Okay, I hear the snorts from my friends who are thinking, "Fan? Heck you are a devoted and certifiably implacable enemy of change" and I bow before their knowledge with a grimace. Change is threatening. There is a loud angry voice in my head that screams at the thought even if the change may be for the good. That voice is from a part of me that is convinced that there is an equal, or probably greater chance that things will just get worse.
Anyway, the result is that I predict doom and gloom. I fuss, worry, and stress over proposed change. I delay, dither, and hang back with decisions, weighing the options and looking at the process and eventual results from all angles. Then once a decision is reached I want immediate action. Full steam ahead and git 'er done!
With some chagrin I must own that once the change is made I become blithely forgetful of how things were before the horrible, nerve-wracking alteration. Knowing I'm like that, that in a week or two I'll have trouble remembering how-it-used-to-be, helps me allow the change in the first place. Agonizing will quickly yield to the new status quo.
And all this is a build-up for the Great Carport Removal. If it was a movie we'd advertise the slow planning stages. The original realization that the structure would eventually become unsafe. The early attempt to put off the weather making the change with a whoomp! in the middle of a winter storm. Several years of finding places to store the stuff that had accumulated under cover. My absolute refusal to commence work when the structure was home to bats and swallows during the summer.
Eventually, this spring gave us opportunity in the way of mild weather, I pushed myself to the Let "Er Rip stage, and the troops sprang into action. A certain amount of jostling for position happened among the staff. I hid my head and gnawed my knuckles. The building resisted more than expected but bowed to the inevitable doom of gravity. Now for the clean-up.