You gotta love a man in Carhart clothes.....they know stuff, they can do stuff, they aren't afraid to get dirty, climb ladders, make sparks, start fires, haul tanks around or squat. Seems like, all of a sudden, there's Carhart everywhere. No white collars or tasseled loafers or @#$#%*#* after shave cologne for miles. I never had it so good.
I got the call about noon on Friday. The plasma cutter was fired up and ready to go. Jason and Michael were in high gear by the time I got there to watch......and by the time I left, I had some windows in my new house. They are fearless. And I always thought designing houses was an inside job.....that didn't require Carhart.
Of course I can't be hanging out in vacant lots in the middle of my day job, but that whole scene is, conveniently, right in the midst of my territory and just cries out for surveillance every time I get close. I've driven by twice today, twice yesterday, brought my sister and brother-in-law on Saturday and re-visited later to take some pictures.......and still find it hard to believe that some day I'll be making fried egg sandwiches in one of those shipping containers....and looking out one of those windows.
And yesterday was a great day to tromp around the house site for a few hours and eat lunch on my future-porch. A lot of dirt....a lot of holes...the remnants of a campfire where we had a post-plasma-cutting session Friday night and one of the best visits with two of the best designers a person could ever have. Overalls by Carhart.