Compost, garages and pencil pushers

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

It appears that once again I made a mistake. My bride, Management, sent me to the store to pick up lettuce and various other compost materials. I was informed that we were “having salad for supper.”

Now I understand that words mean things, but I assumed we would be having something other than compost for supper. We had several friends over and Management set the table with compost and a baked potato. At this point I assumed that the meat was still cooking and I went out to work on one of my garage projects.

When I returned, I discovered my mistake.

My advice to anyone in a similar situation is to never assume anything. I still maintain it was a reasonable error.

If she had said we are having hamburgers, I would have assumed a beverage, maybe some chips or fries, a little ketchup-maybe a pickle would be included. Incidentally, sweet pickles are people food- dills are compost. Next time this happens I intend to quietly eat the compost and then go get a hamburger somewhere.
Not only was I wrong about dinner, I thought working on a building to get some of my stuff hidden was a positive thing. Therefore, working on three buildings should be three times as good.
Of course, there is that small issue of dividing progress three ways but who would care about that?

I mean who, other than Management, would? I even find support for my position in the Bible. If “a day can be as a thousand years,” who am I to argue? I will publicly guarantee, that if I don’t die first, I will have it done in a day or so. My newest garage project is converting our old house into a garage. This is a low budget, easy project. All I have to do is take out all of my stuff and put it somewhere else. Then, I have to cut the floor out which is already falling in from the flood and the incident involving a horse taking a shortcut through the office, kitchen and living room to get to the front yard. Piece of cake, right?

Well, it would be a piece of cake if it were not for the “pencil pusher” factor.

Depending on your frame of reference there are several kinds of jobs. Most of you have heard of blue and white collar or professional and labor. As far as I am concerned, there are three different kinds of labor: really dumb labor, pencil pushers, and real workers.
Many people think pencil pushers are the highest rank but any “real worker” has nothing but contempt for someone who doesn’t work with his hands in a skilled position.

Actually none of this has anything to do with me. I have a blue Tee-Shirt situation. I don’t have contempt for anyone except people who have opinions without any facts.

My only issue is that somehow in the past two years my hands now resemble those of a pencil pusher. Who would have ever thought that spending two years sitting at a desk would have done this to me? I always thought the coffee cup would keep my hands tough.

The last time my hands were this sore I was 15 and working construction. Anyway, I have half of the house empty and half of the floor removed and gravel on the ground. I would really be making progress if I hadn’t already put Management’s car, Rose, my little airplane, Izzy, and several other things in the way.

On the other hand, this proves my theory that stuff expands to fill all available space. It also proves I made the correct decision to turn the old house into a garage. The only problem is that I still need some room for my stuff. Maybe I should build another shed.