The blisters have already purchased real estate on my hands with an expected move-in date of tomorrow, when I arise. The welcome committee will likely consist of creams, ointments, and the occasional pain-induced aggravated bitch-session. That's what ya get when working with cement, hammers and boards in 100 degree heat after a steady diet of paper-pushing.
Somewhere between hosing myself down and guzzling up vitamin water by the gallon I thought it'd be a good idea to get some exercise and haul 80lb dead-weight Quick-crete blocks to form support for new decking. The hammer was completely unforgiving as it shredded my tender skin thumbing it's nose at the tough-man work gloves. What a sissy I've become, I thought, testing out the ability to be ambidextrous and switch the hammer to whichever hand hurt less, at the moment. At least there was no webcam.
Jesus is it hot out here! I could even hear the shingles requesting a relocation package and one or two of them demanding hazardous work pay. It was heat-induced delerium that lasted a grueling 6 hours before finally releasing it's grip. Ultimately though, that evening, there was an odd sense of accomplishment and I thought about the word teleos, loosely translated from Greek into 'living as a thing is meant to' but then quickly dismissed that thought for fear it might be accurate!
Tonight I sleep like a baby with my baby hands and dream of keyboards, A/C, and a whole stack of paper just begging to be pushed.
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