new concrete is curing{4}

remarkable, i have a slab. the concreters went off to get their slab while my slab was going off. curing, edging and brooming concrete is a job best done with beer in your belly apparently. my patio is getting closer and so is a nice celebratory beer for me. 

the trouble of course is the multi voiced conversation, four people all talking the change in measurements, angles, shape and volume of the area to be concreted. the patio builder, the concreter, his team and me. i didn’t have much of an input, just a nod, thanks and cheers .. with an “oh and a by the way” can this please be done thrown in for good measure. the measuring was rather complicated i must say.

the weather and the geographical aspect of when and where my weather comes from was also discussed at length. about a meter i think. this day of watching, talking and waiting is a day to remember as it is for my old puppy. he’s been checking them out and when i took him out for a wee, he didn’t like them all looking at him. he barked at one of them when they got too close to his window observation post.

so i sit here typing waiting. waiting for the cure and the edging brooming business. the weather is doing what ever it does and my puppy is calm.

one seemingly unlikely conversation was about blogs that make money. one industrious concreter has more than 10 blogs online and has applied popular keywords to create these portals of information and he’s making money out of them, shit – what – making money ? yes and i’m going to drain his brain of all his tips and tricks. of course the unique tbaoo style will not match the techniques he’s applied but i’ll check it out none the less.

i’m going to set up eight blogs, each about making money by blogging, use keywords and copy all of the content from other sites and demand googles attention. of course if i do this i’ll really get google’s attention.

so i’m off for now, watching my concrete cure, absorbing instructions on how often to hose it down while it cures and keeping my puppy and his wobbly old paws away from the glorious slab.

now where’s that beer ?

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