The Quansit Hut

It's always funny to me when I read blogs and the writer apologizes to me for missing a day, or apologizes or warns me in advance that they won't be posting because they'll be out of town and stuff, as if my entire life involves sitting in a black box waiting for this one soul to post something on their blog and be that one glimpse of light in an otherwise dark and meaningless existence.

Nope. Nobody cares.

That said, it does make me sad when I miss a day, not because I think anyone will notice, but rather it ruins what would otherwise have been a perfect month for me.

Does that matter? No. I realize this.

But it's just that part of my inner being that simply will not, nay, cannot, be pacified unless numbers are even, colors match, lines are straight, etc.

Anyway, one of my buddies was talking to me at a party I went to last Saturday night, and he had consumed 4 Dr Peppers at the time, and didn't make much sense at all, but he said that he had a "proposition for me."

Whatever he said after that is now a blur, in fact it was a blur then as well, but I heard the words parents' house, building, manual labor, aircraft hanger, and dollars per hour.

I like building stuff, I can always use the money, and I had nothing better to do anyway.

So the last couple days have been spent building this thing. It's called a "quansit hut", so I'm told, but I refer to it as a "shed-zilla." It looks like something that should come together pretty fast... like a two day project.

Nope. It's taken us two full days to put up just six of those rows. It's a constant process of moving the scaffold, climbing the scaffold, putting in bolts every 6 inches, climbing back down, moving it again, repeat.
The great thing is that they're really nice to me and at lunch time, my friend's dad was like, "Alright, get in the car, let's go get some sushi!"

Yeah, sushi. How often does that ever happen in the middle of working construction? I remember working construction in High School and usually one of us would drive to the nearest Jack In The Box and buy lots of $1 sandwiches.
Not us. No sir. We dine in style. You gotta' eat right when you're building shedzillas.


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