Two years ago, George asked me to help him with a house job. He doesn't normally take house jobs so I was curious. This house backed onto a river, so the architect had cleverly filled the entire rear wall of the house with windows. The slope of the land made using scaffolding or ladders virtually impossible, so we had to disassemble the windows from the inside of the house, bring them in to the kitchen and clean them there. Very time consuming.
We finally got the hard part done and went around to all the fixed windows we'd left for last. One section was the laundry room. George was cleaning the inside of the laundry room windows and I was cleaning the outside. I began cleaning the window behind the clothes dryer when I noticed a bee in front of my face.
I stood still, figuring he'd eventually wander off if I didn't bother him. Then I saw a second bee. Great. I slowly looked down. The dryer vent between my legs was swarming with bees. I guess they'd been hiding inside the vent and when I got too close they'd come out to see if I posed a threat. Maybe they thought I was a bear.
I moved backwards very slowly, careful to make only smooth, gentle motions. George looked at me through the window like I was nuts. He came outside and asked me what was wrong. I said, "Bees." George turned green and fled. "Forget those windows, we're not doing anything where there's bees." he said.
Dealing with bug carcasses, bird excrement, spiders, webs, egg sacs, mud, dust, dirt, cement, paint, mortar, glue, gum, spit, vomit, urine, ketchup, eggs, and blood is bad enough. Dealing with bees is not in my contract. You have to draw the line somewhere.
So George and I went for coffee while doing the infamous Mohawk Ford Upper Showroom job this week. (Turns out George uses a fifteen foot stepladder and takes a half size extension pole up with him to reach the glass. Clever.) While we were sitting there he mentioned golf and we started telling each other golf stories.
One time George played golf with Bob, Liana's grandfather (who I've mentioned in earlier posts) and they had a grand time. They were shooting uphill on one hole and they both shot their balls over the hill and off the fairway into the rough. They climbed the hill and George got to the top first. He started laughing. He laughed so hard he fell down and Bob though he was nuts. "What's the matter with you George?" George replied, "Bob, if you can find your ball I'll give you ten dollars." Bob raised an eyebrow. He got to the top of the hill and looked.
Just beyond the edge of the rough were thousands of golf balls. They'd shot their balls onto the back end of the driving range.
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