I haven’t posted in a couple of days. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m thirsty.

My Dad is building a 12’x12′ concrete slab in his back yard, as the foundation for a new garden shed. I’m helping. Among my helper duties is to bring the 60-pound bags of Quikrete from the front yard, where it was delivered, to the back yard. We’re half done, and in two days, I’ve moved 3480 pounds of this stuff. I’ve inhaled about a bag and a half. … Pictures, maybe, in a day or two.

Oh look! It comes in 40 pound bags too! Those insegrievious buttlickers at the lumber yard couldn’t have delivered those instead… nooo! Just kidding, they’re OK guys. But that reminds me of a joke:

A house is being remodeled, in which lives a sweet little 6-year-old girl, with her Mommy and Daddy. The little girl is fascinated by the men on the contractor’s crew, their tools, and the work they’re doing on her house. They all think she’s very cute, and they let her hang around, be their helper. They even give her a “salary” of a dollar a day. And her Mom doesn’t mind … Until one day.

When the job is half done, the little girl has 15 dollars saved up and her Mom takes her to the bank to deposit it. Her own first savings account! The teller thinks she’s a doll and listens to the story about her new job.

“Do you think the project will be done soon?” the teller asks.

“Well,” the little girl replies … “It shouldn’t be too damn much longer, if we can get those assclowns at Home Depot to send us some drywall that’s worth a shit.”