Hoe Hoe Hoe!
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WORK I DIDN'T HAVE TO DO
Faced with a never-ending list of tasks to do to complete the house my enthusiasm for manual labor has flagged a bit. So I turned my devious mind to discovering ways to avoid working around here. The first thing I tried was sickness. Sadly, that didn't work. It turns out that Dad has a "Spurting Blood Rule." Which means that unless I'm spurting blood then I am well enough to work. Even after I feel off the roof one day I still had to keep on working. Internal injuries, even though they usually involve massive blood loss, don't impress Dad.
Foul weather is my next best friend. When it rains around here Dad actually lets me go inside and work in the attic. Because the roof is made out of metal I loose 1 to 2 percent of my hearing each time I go up there - but it is worth it.
Sometimes even if it is raining I have to keep working. For example, when Dad rented a backhoe it began to rain but we continued to work. He was determined to get his money worth - regardless of the lightning strikes.
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Hoe Hoe Hoe! |
Actually, that day I didn't mind working. I was finally able to operate a backhoe. It was like a rite of passage. After that day I was able to lower my IQ and chew tobacco like the rest of the guys. On Saturday nights I can drink too much Budweiser and beat up the Mexicans. Look at me: I'm walking small tall.
There are some detractors out here point out that the backhoe I was operating was nothing more than a glorified go-cart with a 20 horsepower engine. True, it was rather small, but the Billy Bob Manual of Rites of Passage says nothing about a size requirement. So there!
Back to avoiding work, here. The one infallible method of getting out of work is just not being there. Dad would begrudge me a limited number of weekends in Nashville with my friend Stephen. "Conveniently" scheduled meetings with my lawyers in Memphis would get me a week off here and there. In fact, one week at the end of June I had to spend in Memphis while Dad and Mary Kate were forced out of their rental house.
It turned out that the house they were renting was sold right out from underneath them. The house on the hill didn't even have the sheetrock up! What to do? Well, they had to move all their possessions to the house on the hill and then spent a month living like refugees with various friends, family, and nesting animals. True, I felt horribly guilty about leaving them in their time of need. But it only lasted for about 30 seconds. I knew that Tom and his brother, (poisoned by an angry injun) Dwayne, would be there to help.
Besides, I did my part three years ago when they moved from Memphis to Bell Buckle. Which brings me to A MOVING FLASHBACK >>>
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