I'll Meet You in the Middle.

You see that pencil sticking out of my hat? Despite the fact that it has absolutely no lead and is therefore useless, it still exonerates professionalism. This photo was taken before we really knew what we got ourselves into. I still don't really know. What I do know is this, I got a mad case of the Sheet Rash, It is physically hurting me right now to blog, and I have never felt more like a man. I mean, common, check this out....

Awww yeah. Thats some serious tool belt action right there. Seriously . Let me bring you up to date a little bit. Right now, I am in Zion, Utah. I am sheet rocking my parents house with my friend Ammon. Actually, right now I am reclining in a chair, typing, while Ammon is downstairs sitting in a bath tub, sponging himself with microwaved water, naked. There is no hot water and our blow up mattress has a hole in it. I say our, because yes, we are sharing one.

During the night, that bed transforms into the Valley of Despair.

Our blow up mattress has a slow leak. Slow enough to lull us into a false sense of security, while we drift peacefully off to sleep. Inevitably, I wake up in the night, having made forced contact with Ammon as a direct result of the Valley of Despair. The Valley of Despair is the crease that is created due to the slow leak of our Aerobed. To make matters worse, we have one pillow, granted its a body pillow but it still subtracts some of the Man Points I have earned on this journey.

Sheet rock, while helping to build homes, destroys families. It destroys relationships. Sheet rocking is the only time someone is exempt from swearing, I haven't swore but thats just because I always forget to when I get hurt.

It does feel nice to really work though, despite the injuries and the forced spooning. I think this is the hardest I've ever worked in my life and it has been wonderful to just put my head down and go. It has been good to get away and have a chance to think. The usual questions like, who am I? What am I doing with my life? And, How did they crack all of those Pistachio's?

My Mom got a huge bag of Pistachios, post-cracked and I have had a difficult time restraining myself from eating them by the handful. I have been thinking in my head how they are like the rich mans sunflower seeds when I realized that if you eat to many of em, war breaks out in your tummy and you never win that war. Ammon and my Mom have also been casualties of that war. Nevertheless, tomorrow I will no doubt go to battle yet again.

I am tired, this writing is blue and I don't know why. I have a whole schlepple of sheet rocking to do tomorrow, and I am making up words. These are all indicators that it is time for me to go to sleep. So sleep I will and tomorrow I will rise and I will rock. I will rock that sheet.