The problem was, it was leanin' dangerously toward the house. There was about a ten-foot space between the house and the sandmound that it could be dropped without damagin' anythin', but I sure as hell didn't trust myself to give it a whirl. Instead of riskin' a lovely hole in the dining room ceilin' or smashed sandmound pipes, we decided to call in a pro.
The fella showed up the other day to take care of it, and I gotta say, it was worth every penny we paid him just to watch him work. Within two hours, he had that thing down slicker than shit. I learned more about woodcuttin' in that two hours that I have from any amount of time I've spent behind a saw.
Gotta love a cheap education.