last minute labor

I sent out some desperate emails to some locals to get some help moving the stacks of drywall that they delivered to the house. ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY SHEETS.

The delivery guy was kind enough to cover the stack with a tarp, so when we arrived at the house, it looked like there was a small cloaked SUV beneath the blue plastic.

As the dusk rolled in, so did the friends who had the time, energy, and curiosity as to how we were going to pull off this feat.

There is no way to describe it. It was just drywall. Everywhere you turned... drywall. Stacks of nightmarish 4X8 sheets of .... dry-freeken-wall.

So we took off our respective sweaters and jackets (don't forget the house has heat now), donned our work gloves, and took to the streets. Two person teams... up one flight and then another. 60 sheets on the 3rd floor, 60 on the middle and 70 on the ground floor. It was back-breaking and emotionally draining... But the stacks receded. Like beers that followed... the stacks vanished slowly... begrudgingly... but somehow satisfyingly so.

Most of you did not know each other. I stood on the ladder, fixing the ceiling fan electrical box, shorting out the electrical box, and then re-fixing the electrical box... and I looked down at 8 folks that came out on a few hours notice to tackle a few hours of work. I saw them conversing with each other... laughing... growing... it was good. It was exactly the spirit of generosity that has a home in these walls. I could have picked up a handful of day workers to knock out the job and a lot of us would be a lot less sore this morning, but that fingerprint of generosity and fellowship would not have been imprinted on the very structure of this house, as it is now.

I cannot thank you all enough.