I lay concrete for a living. How did this happen? I'm a manly man, don't get me wrong, but I'm not a Mr. fix it handy man type guy. I'm more of the strong silent type that is utterly incapable of performing the most perfunctory traditional male round the house kind of jobs. I can't start a lawn mower. This is insanity. Now I have to lay out concrete for swimming pools, I'm totally out of my element. It's harder than it sounds. I don't want to make things with my hands. I want to make things with my brain.
I have concrete growing out of my knees, this is not an exaggeration, chaffing on my thighs and concrete burns on my balls (don't ask). I inhale 20 metric tonnes of concrete daily. Have you ever heard of anyone suffocating to death because their lungs morphed into a pair of cinder blocks? That's what I have to look forward to. I'm just giving you fair warning. Concrete is the new chlamydia. It's spreading, we don't even notice, and I am one of it's carriers. Fight the madness please, plant some trees.