The excavation work is finished and the final site check went fine. Cabin delivery scheduled for next week. This long process is coming to a close.
When I pulled up to the land on Thursday, the Excavation Guy was just finishing it up. I had a road, a pad for the cabin, and a large mound of dirt. Seriously, if you need dirt, just give me a shout. What does one do with dirt?
Honestly, I feel a little bad. For the last month I've been enjoying this unspoiled piece of forest. Now I'm the dude that went and spoiled it.
Alas. Whatever it is they say about baking a cake. Omelets. I've got 175 feet of drive and a thick row of trees between me and The World. Let the One Man Dance Parties commence.
People around here love to talk, and so Excavation Man was just thrilled when I started asking questions about the area. I've mentioned before that zoning – lack of – was one of the reasons I initially considered Hector. Somehow we got on the topic, and he was hilarious.
“We've manged to keep zoning out. You don't want people coming in and telling you what you can and can't do. They'd have run poor George out of town years ago if we had zoning. But he pays his taxes and he does what he wants. That's freedom.”
Apparently George “doesn't have two nickels to rub together” but he “keeps to himself and if has beer on a Friday night he's tickled."
"We have a lot of hermits around here,” he summed up.
I was in line at the bank and overheard this exchange when the guy in front of me stepped up to the teller. He was a big dude, with a ripped t-shirt and an easy manner.
Teller: How are you today.
Man: Confused. My former boss said I could cash this here.
Slides over check
Teller: Your former boss was correct, as long as you have a drivers license.
Man: I have a state ID from Florida.
Teller examines ID.
Teller: That's a lot of holograms.
Man: Yeah, Florida makes it impossible to counterfeit their stuff anymore.