I knew when I wrote that last post that I would hear about it. Let me just inform you all: everyone, every single person who has called me in the last week has made some crack about how gracious I am to answer their call. And that...is true enough. I'm glad you finally appreciate what an honor it is to speak with me. Just be advised, it's been done.
On to other business. Like this damn drought. Let me tell you a story about the time Liz decided that it would be a good week to abandon her desk job in favor of a more challenging, stimulating, earthy task. Liz? Isn't here anymore.
I took this class a while back. Some people came and they taught me and several of my co-workers how to install landscape lighting, those pretty outdoor lights that make neat shadows on big fancy houses at night. This week, I got my first opportunity to actually install one of these systems, so I jumped at the chance. I thought about the insane hotness and dryness and miserableness of the weather we've been having lately, but, I thought, people work in hot weather every day. And I'm a people.
Anything you can do, I can do better. Yes, I can do anything better than you.
Things I learned about myself this week:
1. There is a limit to how much of God's unforgiving sun I can take, and I almost found out what it is.
2. I can't dig trenches. Digging trenches is so far past my capability as a human being that I do not even hope to aspire to one day become the kind of person who is able to dig a trench. At least, not in 105 degree weather through what may as well be concrete.
3. It is possible for me to fully appreciate the life-saving value of sunscreen and despise its existence at the same time.
4. You know what sucks worse than death? Working outside, all day, in the hot hot heat, never more than ten yards from the siren call of the most inviting swimming pool you've ever seen.
5. When I get really hot and miserable, I cuss a lot. I mean...like...A LOT.
There was this little vacuum snake thing that skulked along the floor and walls of the pool all day. Every now and then, it would walk up just above the water line and spit out some pool water. I remember praying to God that if He really loved me, He'd make that vacuum snake spit on me. I can't be sure, but I think that's the first time I've ever asked God to please make something spit on me.
About Me
- woodlayson
- I find that the best way to learn about a person is to listen to what they have to say. It's called indirect exposition. Let's try that.
5 comments:
That made me laugh so hard...
It's like you're turning into Jaimie!
Yeah, we have a trencher, but it was on another job. And the trench we were digging had already been dug up once, so in my inexperience with rocky soil in drought conditions, I thought I could handle it. Wrong. So wrong.
The solar lights do okay, but there's no match for those pretty low-voltage lights. Truth be told, they're not that much trouble to put in if you know how to wire them up. The digging was a special circumstance because the jackass we were working for wanted his transformer placed on the OTHER side of the driveway.
You might be onto something with the crosses. You'll start a whole new fad.
if stealing those creepy solar crosses off of graves and putting them in your own yard is wrong...i don't want to be right.
*full body shudder*
I guess it's like every other ritual concerning death. Whatever the living want to do with me is fine; it's all for their benefit anyway.
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