Our workers returned yesterday. You know, the guys who are siding our barn, and how refreshing to have found such a reliable, first-class construction company! In our former house we dealt with some of the shadiest, shoddiest of them all, but this company makes us, well, darn happy.
Speaking of which, last week at lunch in our local 50's cafe I told Tom that I wish I had my very own worker. My very own! A man who, if I asked him to construct a raised garden bed in my Bunny Pasture, would say, "Yes, Ma'am! I'll be happy to. That's a wonderful idea." Then he'd walk away, whistling, to immediately begin framing the bed.
Not someone who would shake his head and reply, "Hmm. I don't know. Wouldn't it be better to just dig a regular garden over in that opposite corner where it would be closer and get more sun?," (something a certain husband I know would say. heh.)
Nope, I dream about my very own silent worker. A mute man would be a perfect delight or one with a fondness for breaking out in song. Show tunes, preferably. Someone with muscles, a happy disposition, the heart of a godly servant and a love of hard work amongst nature.
Oh, the miracles I could work around this old farm with one of those. シ
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6 comments:
boy you and me both
until then we mature into women who manage the give and take of the men who hate to puck up the dog dung until we finally in desperation...do it our self.
oh life
too bad that they are often right that the sun does shine brighter over there hahah
LOL, me too! :)
Me three! I'm still laughing about the mute man :)
What a fun "dream". If you can find it somewhere, you would probably enjoy reading Eleanor Perenyi's Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Garden, especially her dream of her perfect gardener...
And, Debra, you also reminded me of the Gingerbread Men my friend Penny used to bake and sell at Christmas. They came with a paper that said, "The Perfect Man, He doesn't speak, and if he annoys you, you can bite his head off."
I want my very own silent worker, too!
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