The One Where I Could Have Been Buried Under the House

So, we have this big house project going on. My contractor is my dad. The savings is tremendous but the other result is that I have to do things that I normally would avoid. For example, when we were working on putting in the concrete forms I had to help. I was hoping that my contribution would be going outside to deliver cold drinks and then making a mad dash back to the air-conditioned house. But it didn’t always work that way. There were times that there was no one else around to help and I quickly learned that delivering cold drinks was risky business.

I would be trying to hand over the drink and then I would get the order.

My dad- “I need you to go over there and hold that.”

Me- “Hold what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

My dad- “You know that thing (insert technical jargon like oh, I don’t know, two by four?) while I go measure that other thing (more technical jargon, or as I like to think of it; blah, blah, blah.”

Me- “I still don’t understand. Do you mean you want me to get in the hole???”

My dad- “Yes.”

Me- “Uh, I don’t think that’s really girl stuff. Is there any way I could just make you a sandwich instead?”

My dad-“ GET IN THE HOLE!”

I reluctantly got in the hole, doing what I was told but the whole time I couldn’t help but think that it was kind of like the second crime scene.