Don't ask what your dumpy level can do for you, ask what you can do for your dumpy level!

Day 8 was one of those bizarre days, which seem to last forever, especially when your eyes are dangerously closing up every time you need them to be open. It was time for me to stop recording Bob for a bit and get on with troweling him. That necessity became even stronger when sometime after lunch Will, who was digging a trench in the exterior of the house, just like me, reached a cobbled surface. Bad thing it took him a bit too long to call Mark for supervision. Will started taking out the cobbles which Mark later believed were part of the original ground covering of the house. Unfortunate, but shit happens. To be honest the idea of finding a original level in my dear Bob motivated me even more and I was more keen than ever on getting the rusty-colored layer of the trench. But before anything else cold happen I had to get the dumpy level out, as I was know a proud owner of the knowledge ho to use it. Needless to say, after you have presumably read the title of this post, everything didn't quite go peachy with the dumpy level. As of that day I o have a love-hate relation with that specific piece of surveying equipment. The measurements themselves are not hard to read. However, the spirit level on it is a tricky bastard which I never could have conquered without the help of Kate. Later that day Jenna, who was by then completely consumed with her lovely trench, reached a wall on both ends of it, which could only mean proof for the window seat hypothesis of Mark and Hannah. By the end of day 8, amidst the singing, the occasional reminder of NEVER HAVE I EVER and the strive to get to end of the day, I indeed reached the end of the rusty context in my trench. I wish this could all sound more exciting to you, not just some dry facts from a damp trench. But then again I am not sure anyone can really know how we feel every day without getting their hands in the dirt. Life long and carry on troweling.