Every day by coffee break it looks like a small bomb or a very large firecracker exploded at the job site.
At this point in the build, the slowly growing wall-to-be is a network of shelves and platforms for me to set stuff on. There’s so much stuff: the coffee I brought from home, the coffee I picked up on the way to work, tape measures, always at least two tape measures, marking crayons, five different hammers, four different chisels, feathers and wedges for splitting stones, a protein bar or two, my phone, and a layer of clothing I’ve shed.
That’s just what sits on top of the wall. The surrounding ground looks like I set up a series of booby traps for myself: stones askew at weird angles, shovels and rakes set as trip hazards, steel pry bars that are never quite where I need them, tangled extension cords, and a broom I almost never use.
At the end of every day, everything goes back to its place. The chaos recedes. Somehow, the wall is a little longer, a little taller.