The Ukrainian President is confused.

This reminds me of a childhood memory. Untill now it was pretty traumatic. But thanks to the POTUS i am free. I think that the Ukrainian president must have had a similiar experience.  It would explain his confusion.  

You see one day my mother decided she didnt like the idea of an attached garage. She took a hammer and started busting up the wall between the kitchen and the garage. When my father got home to his dismay she had already removed most of the plaster. So, since it was friday, 3 days later my father and i finished tearing down the wall and building the floor. It was summertime so having a big hole in the house wasnt a problem. The garage was attached to the kitchen but they just opened a Hardys down the pike so we got to eat out for a couple days.

We hired an old man to do the brick work for where the garage door had been. This was before quickcreet. Before quickcreet you would need to mix the rock and lime and cement and water. This was an art as everyone had their own ratio. When the old man would mix the cement he would spit, sometimes from his nose, into the mix. At the time it was lets say traumatic. This guy leaving his spit and snot in my homes wall. I would watch him mix his slime into the brew. Slowly in strings disappearing into the white paste. I was young then too young to be of much help but i did shadow the old man and my father to grab them tools and beer. Shudder.

When we put a fireplace into the living room he returned again with the snot. But he was older now. And so was i. I had to actually mix the cement for him. And carry it to the scaffolding. Again the crusty old mans dna smeared into my walls. As i inevitably spilt the mortor on myself, stepped on it the ptsd set in.

But he did a great job! Perfect lines. Excelent cuts. The corners were tight and firmly set. We lived in that house for another 18 or so years. The masonry work remained solid and was eventually a major selling point for the home.

I was a child then and had no choice but to help carry the snotty cement thru the house and load it into the pulley for him to complete the work. My father, not being a Mason, did what was required to help the dirty old man accomplish the job. After all he hired him for his skill and speciality. He never said anything about the snot cause he would flip his cigarette ash in, probably spit too but it was dad so...but more importantly he was working on the carpentry.  I didnt like it but in hindsight i gotta admit it was worth it and well maybe it made it better...

This was a life lesson for me. I actually think on it often especially at work. I matured some over that time because of it. The service and 'sacrifice' for my family. The old man is long since passed. I went to his funeral and regailed this story to others hearing laughs and agreement in return. He was a noted mason in the area. As such many people had the same story.  Noone stopped the master mason from doing it his way cause he got the job done.  In reality it really didnt matter. And perhaps the slime buggers actually helped. How would we know we werent masons and noone could argue with the results. If someone had stopped us and said he kicked the mason out of his house for spitting in the mortor or snotting on the unfinished floor, did i mention that? Shudder, we wouldve been confused as well.