Business is slow for Scott, (alias Can-Do-Guy) which makes him uneasy. It's hard to recall the last time his crew wasn't working on the construction or renovation of at least two or three jobs. The building industry has taken a substantial hit by this wretched recession - not unlike many others. But when Scott disappears into the Man Cave barn for a few days, something is brewing. I'm guilty of winging a few barbed remarks his way - something to the effect of 'beating the bushes since the Jobs weren't knocking at the barn door' - mean spirited stuff like that, which I regret. Here's why -
He wasn't sitting around twiddling his thumbs - and now I need to apologize for being such a miserable harpy.
There's a curious little post-script to this entry which just proves that sometimes the universe bends in and listens and delivers its own brand of sentencing. As I was leaving the barn, having relieved myself of those small minded remarks, I hit an inconspicuous patch of black ice and landed firmly on my arse. HARD. Tears-stinging-the-eyes hard. And it was clear to me, at that very moment, that justice had been served. So Scott, I am sorry for unloading my frustration on you - in my defense, I'd been working w/o a break for too many days. I adore your furniture, your style, the color you chose for me. You always get it right.
P.S. He's taking orders for this splendid I-can-get-some-of-my-stash-in-it cabinetry.