In 2008 I took a job as a project engineer for a large building firm in Seattle. I don’t remember my precise words to my friend Kaley at the time; something to the point of “I probably won’t ever have to dig a ditch with a shovel again,” or some other such driveling forecast. I never knew true manual labor before moving to Albania for a year. Now that I am home, it seems I have found my niche again; at the smart end of a shovel, council tool, or sledge hammer.
Yesterday I got my first taste of physical failure in many years. In the shower, after working on a drain system all day, I could not move without getting one tendon or another to cramp; giving my motions the sudden, jerky quality of a person learning to drive a stick-shift in an abandoned parking lot. With three curious nephews and one very adult, pre-adult niece within ear shot most of the time, I am having to modify my speech patterns and how I handle my encounters with things I dislike. I was relieved at the end of the day yesterday to learn that the clients were hiring an extra hand to expedite the conclusion of my project. My body needs the help.
The worker my clients hired did not show up today. That is probably best, since I really do enjoy working alone and the freedom of only being responsible for myself. By mid-morning I was hopeful to get the lion’s share of the digging done. With the sun high as a reminder of my bodies failure yesterday I was not certain how it all would go. Thankfully, that’s when help arrived.
albaniacalling 
Been there my friend. Looks like good help but I think the footwear would not pass OSHA standards.
After a year in Albania, everything passes OSHA.