Mud Buggies and Mary

I was thinking: Man, I really should post something about Mark here. It's starting to look like he's living in the basement or something.... However, as many know- Mark is very consistent. He goes to work before we wake up, comes home when dinner's ready, and goes hunting when he finds time on Saturdays.

He's my sanity. Calm. Quiet. Consistent. Great qualities to have when I can freak out over the bag of Rice Krispies which never opens the right way, and all the krispies are pouring into the bottom of the box.

Every once in a while he likes to stir things up.

Some of you who have known me since the last blog may remember that time when the diamond blade from a grinder came to rest one half of an inch away from one of Mark's main artery....

Anyway, Mark comes home on Friday, telling me that his boss sent him home. (Gulp.)

Sarah: what? like FIRED?
Mark: No, like carbon monoxide poisoning.

Mark was in a basement, pouring concrete. The guys use a mud buggy to make their work easier. The mud buggy is run by gas- therefore creating toxic fumes.

None of the other guys were affected by it. Mark was. As he attempted to exit the basement, he lost muscle coordination, and dropped to the ground. His younger brother came running over to see if he's alright, and eventually dragged him out by his ankles. (Sounds like a D-Day documentary).

MEDIC!

After Mark regains consciousness, he sat on a bucket outside when his brother, Josh, came over to check on him.

Josh has the same way of dealing with stress as me.

Mark (glassy-eyed looking at Josh): ... yeah, feeling much better
Josh: (slowly creeping down to get about an inch from Mark's face, whispering) Dob. Dob? Hey..... did you see Mary? (shit-eating grin from ear to ear)
Mark: (whispering) Yeah, she told me to go back and finish the floor.

Mark is completely back to normal again. He left for work at 5:50 this morning. All is right with the world.