Sandbagging Makes Me Tired

At church today, someone asked how to help with sandbagging. I said, "You find a pile of sand, and put it in a bag."

I'm not joking. That is what you do. For hours. And hours.

Then you take the bags, by any means available, to the berm and create a sandbag burrito. . . while trying not to punch crazy old ladies who are irrationally demanding of their volunteer grunt laborers. It's part artistry and part . . . sweat - lots of sweat.


Before the next natural disaster, I'm buying a Gator:

That way, while all the poor suckers are hucking 50-lbs. sacks of kitty litter, I'll be chillin' like a villain on my sweet green all-terrain-mini-delivery-truck. Can I get one with a cupholder? A big cupholder.

I'm not complaining. Sometimes you need to just man up and be a stout brother and hit someone in the chest with a tube full of silica.