Yesterday when we had our little septic adventure, pretty much everyone correctly identified the effluent with the first word out of their mouth. Today when I drove by, I sanctified the excremental expletive with the modifier: Holy. You see the wet, nasty, contaminated dirt had to be removed, so they were digging an enormous hole. I voted for selling the contaminated soil on C'list as fertilized topsoil, but I was voted off the island. So, we scooped.
And put it into the dump truck to be hauled away.
The work was done so effeciently and masterfully, I just had to go up and compliment the operator of the tractor. It was a little disconcerting that his feet didn't reach the floor.
So, I got closer. Huh, that's funny. Haven't I seen him somewhere before?
You know you're getting older when the construction workers start to look like mere children to you! At any rate, if he can build a driveway like this, I don't care how old he looks.
Tomorrow we'll put on the gravel and then batten down the hatches, because the weather man says it's going to rain. If we get any dirt washing down on the road, the erosion inspector has promised to give us some broth without any bread, spank us all soundly and send us to bed. Or something like that. I know it's bad...