I was supposed to be up with the concrete guys, but I'm running behind. And "running" is an overstatement since I ran 28 miles yesterday. So I'm lagging behind, with a bit of joint pain. The individual pains aren't too bad, it's just that it's everywhere. But I have to pour 10,000 pounds of concrete today, which involves me renting a concrete mixing trailer and then wheelbarrowing it out back a hundred times or so. (Sh!t! Last week never ended!) Anyway, I consider it all "cross-training."

The Inspector approved my massive footings. He was well-pleased. He asked me if I had dug them myself, and when I replied that I did, he just smiled and said, "Good for you." which is a statement that has always bothered me. "Good for you!" When someone says it, I just hear: "I don't really care, but it sounds like you are pleased with yourself." I deplore a world where no one can share in someone's passionate, hard work.

I'm off to pour some 38x38x38 footings. A nice, solid place for Archimedes to stand. (Buckle up, Earth!)



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