Just west of our place, a neighbor has been building a new home. I’ve been watching the progress since the cement was poured last Fall. The curious thing is, there has been no activity for the past three months, Still doesn’t have any siding, nor roof over the front porch. I heard this morning that the neighbor had fired the carpenter. I’m not sure I believe it, because I have worked alongside this particular carpentry crew multiple times, and they are first rate.
I have a confession to make.
The thought (even if it turns out not to be true) that he was let go, gave me this strange happy peaceful feeling. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing inside of me that wishes ill of this other tradesman. I think it has to do with me feeling I’m not alone when it comes to work related drama.
Yesterday I was installing a storm door for a repeat customer. Her name is Lisa. While I was in the middle of hanging the door, Lisa came back to the house, muttering something about, “I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me…”
I said, “What happened? ”
“Oh, I went outside with a rag in my hand to dust off the kids swimming pool, and now I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere. Must have set it down someplace.”
“Well, yesterday, I proceeded to tell her, I misplaced a bank deposit in my truck, three checks, and a $100 worth of cash. I had it in my hands, while I was filling out the deposit slip, set it down somewhere, (in the truck) and it took me five minutes (literally) to figure out where I put it.”
I’d much rather hang around people who are willing to admit they don’t always have it together once in a while.
I was about 16 at the time. It was crunch time trying to get the oats in. Dad had just brought home the large spoked wheels for his oats seeder from the machine shop. (New bearings installed.) Seeder was parked on the edge of the field while I disked. On one of my first passes, I got too close to the oats seeder, and caught the spokes with the outside blade of my disk. Turned the oat seeder wheel into a metal pretzel. To his credit, my dad never said a word.
Late 1980’s we were living in Northern New Jersey. One of the families in our local church offered to let us borrow their Suburban when we decided to take a trip back to Iowa. So there I was driving this expensive borrowed vehicle as I pulled into a parking ramp in downtown Cedar Rapids. The gate went up, half way through the entrance, wife had a question. I stopped. The gate began to come down. I panicked/ hit the gas. Gate goes flying in a half a dozen different direction. Then a very large security guy stepped out from the guard shack….(things go blank after that)
Have I ever told you about the Amish butterflies we found in our pantry ? I need to tell you if I haven’t already.
People that try to make out like they are “perfect” all the time, can be really hard to live around.
Don’t be like that.
My point in all of this… in case you need a reminder, or some encouragement, or a kick in the pants…
To be human is to be imperfect.
Amish Butterfy/ Google Image