A Job Well Done
—by Nathan on October 12, 2008—
In our backyard, we had three patches of dirt: One to the far left of the yard, one to the far right, and one just above the right patch. My dad wanted to grow grass in those bare areas, and I wanted money, So, we made a deal that would benefit both of us: For every hour I'd work on the yard, I'd get paid $1.50.
My first job was to move the soil around in the far right patch. Then, I did the same thing in the far left. Next, I poked holes using a pitchfork in the far left patch. Unfortunately, I was put out of commission for that job when I scratched the big toe on my left foot. It hurt... a lot, and I now bear the scratch and bruise to prove it. The pain subsided after icing it and laying it on a pillow, but the pitchforking duty was over for me.
Since my dad wanted to grow grass in the back, he ordered black dirtl to put over it. And it was a LOT of soil. Along with my parents' help, I wheeled barrel-fulls of soil over to the patches and dumped them out. This took a long time to do, and I was very glad when the last barrel was poured.
The last part of the job was to get rid of any mounds in the areas. So, I went around the biggest soil-filled spot (the third patch mentioned above) with a shovel and scooped up dirt that wasn't flat. This, in my mind, was a fairly easy task to accomplish.
After the entire "project", as my dad called it, was completed, I was paid for my hand in helping. Since I was in need of money, I was happy I had done my share and earned what was owed.