I didn’t wear tight jeans, a low-cut top or a pushup bra! Nope, just paint-spotted jeans and an old short-sleeved shirt of Scott’s that I noticed, when I felt a breeze on my back, was half gone. Of course as soon as I got home and changed out of the work clothes, that shirt went into the garbage.
Sadly, I can’t claim I’m there for my looks. I like to believe that Once Upon a Time that might’ve been the case … Hee!
I did a lot of sweeping and wiping of the work spaces. Can’t see anything to do for a moment? Pick up the broom. My efforts don’t look laborious; for instance, I was asked to lean on this door so that it wouldn’t move when it was being sanded (for painting) or sawed. I’m asked to run up or down stairs to get a tool, saving Scott and Bruce time and many steps; this is good for my health! I’m glad to get the exercise.
It must be as frustrating for Bruce and Scott sometimes as it is for me when I don’t know what I’m looking for. “Kathy, bring me the impacter,” or the side-cutter or a certain wrench. It might be quicker to get it themselves! (Not really; just sometimes …)
stubblejumperscafe.wordpress.com 
I feel your “pain,” W!
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I remember one time when work was being done and I was asked to bring the tape. What tape? The measuring tape. And yeah I dutifully brought out my sewing measuring tape. And they all fell down laughing and wouldn’t stop.
So yeah I can relate. 😀
XO
WWW
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If you think so, then my work here is done. :)
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You are a good sport Kate!
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“asked me one time to go and get a cord. I came back with some rope or something”
You had a good excuse: you English speak a different language.
Then again, Tool is a different language for ME.
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And yes, he can be a stroppy bastard. You said it! Hee!
But he’ll be on best behaviour when the “boss’s wife” is there. Right? Damn right. I’m sure he’s bitten his tongue many times already, but unfortunately he’s bound to slip up sometime. Only human. But then I may bite HIS head off and make him cry. It could get ugly.
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Ha! I’d do the same thing at least once!
It reminds me of the time shortly after moving here that I was going to be a good little farm wife one day when Scott and Bruce were out fencing. I threw together a nice lunch and packed some cold drinks and hopped into my vehicle and drove out to them. They accepted the lunch with as much enthusiasm as they could muster. They had been just finishing up and were about to come in anyway. They’d run a couple miles of electric wire … and I’d just driven through it and pulled it down, didn’t even see it, and they’d have to walk those miles again and lift the wire. Hoo boy. It doesn’t pay, for Scott or me, when I take the initiative in “helping out.” I’ve learned to wait till I’m asked, when it comes to food in the field. Usually.
As a labourer on Scott’s jobs, it would be great if I could read his mind and know what he wants two seconds before he wants it. I can’t and don’t, so it does get frustrating for him, I’m sure.
I have to laugh at myself for not knowing which tools are which and how everything works, or I’d cry. (I’m sure sometimes Scott and Bruce feel like it!)
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Scott asked me one time to go and get a cord. I came back with some rope or something, I don’t know, didn’t go down too well. Stroppy bastard. LOL.
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