I slept until afternoon underneath the hum of the window air conditioner I’d bought at Sam’s Club. After I ate, I worked on the hill, digging the foundation and laying the pipe. Hooking up water and electricity back there was going to be a stretch. I’d talked with a contractor who told me it could be done, but it was going to take some cash I didn’t have. Pouring the concrete was another problem. I’d done some flat work with a man who owned a mixing truck over in Wayne County. He finally came by and looked at what I’d done. “Driveway won’t support my truck, and it’d cost a fortune to snake a line back there. The pump I have wouldn’t be strong enough for what you need. Probably best to get a portable mixer and do it by hand. Just frame up the sides like normal and pour it yourself. It’s going to take a while, but that’s the only way I can see it working.” “I’ve got the time,” I said. I rented his portable mixer and pulled it back on the hill. Seeb let me have two days off, and I hauled the concrete by wheelbarrow.
