Michael the Diggerman
Last Wednesday, I had an appointment with Michael, the diggerman. The “digger” in this case was some device for moving earth. After a parade of delivery trucks crawling over my yard these last few years, it was finally time get the yard leveled out and improved.
Dan recommended Michael the diggerman, and I was pleased when Michael arrived at ten o’clock as planned. I’m still a little wary of taking on a big landscaping job… in addition to leveling the yard, part of the hill in back will be taken down and some berms will be added in front. I have a vision of what I want, but I have no idea what needs to happen to get it done.
Michael the diggerman and I walked the property, and I explained what I wanted to get done. He seemed to understand what I was asking for, but I never seem to know for sure with the Irish… they have a tendency to agree with me even when they don’t have a clue of what I’m saying.
After over-explaining my goals, Michael rubbed his chin and said, “This can be done. No problem. I can be here in two days.”
My jaw dropped, “Two days from today… that would be Friday. You mean this Friday, June 5th? Not two weeks from this Friday.” I stopped myself from asking, “Not some Friday in 2010 or 2011?” I had grown accustomed to tradesmen being obscure and unreliable with dates and times. How many excuses had I heard over the years?
“Well, I’ve got another job next week, so if this Friday doesn’t work, I could come up after I’m done with that, but that would be at least a week.”
“No, no, this Friday is good!” I interupted. “What do I need to do to be ready for you to do the digging?”
“Well, anything you don’t want buried or anything that is in my way, you will have to move,” he said as he scanned the yard.
“OH…MY…GOD!” I thought to myself as I looked at all the building supplies and construction remnants around the yard. Two bundles of 6” cement blocks… BUNDLES, I say, that’s like 120 blocks that need moving. Three large stacks of roofing tiles. A pallet loaded with slates. Just a lot of heavy shite that needs moving.
AND the Sanfords from Arizona arrive this afternoon. How can I play host and prepare the yard at the same time? As my father used to say, “JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!”
Michael the diggerman and I agreed to meet again on Friday, and as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, I set off to cleaning. A few hours later, Jim Sanford arrived. His wife Betty would be joining us with his daughter in a day or two. In the meantime, Jim was a trooper and helped haul blocks, move tiles and help with the general reorganization. I would have been lost without him.
We finished up around 9pm, just in time for Mehal and Tom to land. For the next hour we drank whiskey, told stories and enjoyed some great craic. Finally at midnight, it was time for bed. I was exhausted, sore, scratched, sunburned, smelly and oh so very happy.