posted on Apr, 20 2008 @ 09:08 AM
Man! What a beautiful day it was yesterday. Not a cloud in the sky. 80 degrees and no humidity. Kind of warm for my taste, but beautiful none the
I powerwashed my sidewalk, driveway and pool surrounding. Man! Amazing how dirty things are. Until you clean them, you just don't realize......
"Daddy. Can we play in the sand box?"
"You bet little dude."
His sand box up to this point is a little one made for one year olds. So I'm feelin' all full of testosterone and stuff and say:
"Little Dude! You want to help me build a sand box?"
So I decide to do this! I get the keys to the truck, buckle him in, and off we go to the nearby very large home center.
"Daddy, I want a hash brown!"
So we make a detour and stop at the store and pick up his hash brown. I pick up my usual breakfast of baby carrots, celery and peanut butter. Oh and
my diet Pepsi too......
So we get to the store. Gosh what a beautiful day. I pick up wood for the surround, some stones, anti weed plastic and head back home.
We get home, and the 'Dude' and I get out our tools. A shovel, tape measure, screw gun, screws and a couple posts.
I measure and mark out the area.
OK, I re-do the measurements.
Again - I re-do the measurements........ Ahh Jeez, the Flyers game is on soon. Gotta go get my radio......
Allright there we go, got the station on... ahhhhhh.... let's get this construction under way.
So I start digging. I dig down about a foot deep around the circumference of this sand box. Actually the Jersy shore is smaller than this thing. What
the heck was I thinking? My wheel barrow is exhausted I dug up so much.
Satan, I mean my wife decided to throw in a couple of kind words. "What are you going to do with all of that dirt? You're not planning on making a
pile in my yard are you?"
Ohhhh my...... Life is .....is.....is.....ummmm.......wonderful.......
Her yard, eh? If it's her's then why doesn't she work, and why do I pay for everything?
Anyway I finishing digging out the mini grand canyon. I line it with the anti weed cloth, put in a couple inches of stone and admire my work.
My radio blares:
"FLYERS ARE DOWN ONE NOTHING."
"He's not going to play in a pit of rocks. Where's the sand? Are you trying to hurt him?"
"I'm going to go get the sand now, DEAR........."
I am thinking about chopping off the ring finger on my left hand. That way I can't have a ring on there ever again...............
So I fire up the truck and head out to get some sand........ The gas gauge is on E. Oh come on. I just filled it up. Luckily a station is right there.
I pull in and tell the man "Fill it up."
After 5 minutes of trying to translate what I'm saying, I get the attendant to understand I want to fill it up with regular. He hands me the receipt.
After I wake up from my price shock induced coma. I pay the bill,
Ok now to get the sand!
I get there and realize it comes in 50 pound bags. Ok no problem. I talk to one of the employees there and we figure out how much I need.
"HOW MUCH? Are you kidding me?"
So I load all of the bags in the back. My truck now looks like a low rider.
I pull out and every time I hit a bump the body hits the wheels. Not good. You know you're driving slow when a blue haired 90 year old lady is giving
you the finger.
I finally get home and walk all the bags of sand around back.
I'm walking the last bags around back, and I see my dog ripping apart several of the bags. He's shaking his head spreading the sand everywhere.
"Stop it Yabaastad!"
He goes running off lookin' all guilty and stuff.
So I fill the sand box with sand. Yeah! That is one good lookin' sand box! I put up the rail around the sides. As I'm putting in the last screws in
the railing, my cat comes in and uses it as a very large litter box.........
I swear I must have been jack the Ripper in a past life.......