My apartment complex is being painted. The painting crew is a motley assortment of mainly shaved-headed, heavily tattooed guys. They'll be around for the next three weeks. It'll be ... interesting.
One of the painters jumped the wall onto my patio this morning. When I saw him gazing at my hanging basket with the sign taped to it that says "Do Not Move, Baby Birds Inside," I slid the door open and asked him if this was going to be a problem. This was a big burly guy with a beard braided into a pigtail, so I was a bit leery when he said, "Yeah." But then he told me they'd have to move the babies because the pressure-washing and mold retardent they were going to spray would kill them. He said they'd move the basket -- gently -- to the edge of the woods, in the shade, and promised to move it back when they were finished and the fumes had dissipated. And they did.
As soon as I got home, I hauled my step-ladder out there and climbed up to check on the little ones. All six were present and accounted for, and their mom and dad showed up a couple of hours later to feed them. The motley crew did okay.
Hey, Happy Hump Day!