Crane aided removals today, the crane operator's customer. Mostly pines, but there was some arrangement that the hardwoods would be cut into 45 cm firewood lengths. Just what you want to do at the end of the long day, right? A pretty good pile of logs to cut through, so I start guesstimating length pretty early on in the little project, cutting through the pile with a longer bar. Alternating cutting and stacking, because making it neat for the customer is part of the arrangement, I'm told. I get about three quarters done and the lady comes out of the house and says, "Some of those look too long". I said that may be so, but it's late in the day and I can't measure every one. I need to get this finished, and most of this will fit, since your stove will take fifty centimeters. She gives a pout and tells me how worried she is that some won't fit, and I need to cut the long ones again. I was an inch from telling her to have a heart and get her husband to cut the long ones, unless he is useless, but I held my breath and went through what was there again to make her happy. The whole time she is standing about three feet away staring at the job, every once in awhile saying, "What about that one?" It put me in a real bad mood in a hurry. I kept thinking to myself, this isn't my job.
That kind of thing almost never happens, I mean cutting up firewood at a job, so I just sucked it up as best I could and didn't say anything to the crane guy. I'm still kind of pissed, though. I mean I don't mind cutting firewood, just not for a whiney crab, especially when tired.