I don't do a lot of landscaping installs, although I like to design them and micromanage them to the end. Sometimes I do an install, here and there, if it's something I think I can hack.
Recently I thought I could hack an install for a customer I've worked for for years setting up new planters at a new residence. It was really, really raining the day I set for the install. I was already there with all these plants, a local garden center had delivered 75 bags of compost (way too much compost, but that's another story) and I was determined to get the work done. However, I didn't realize that all the terraces were on different floors and that accessing each was difficult. One was through a very narrow gangway. How narrow? Amanda-width plus 3 inches. The other terrace was up 2 flights of stairs. And all this wet, heavy soil needs to get to these terraces, in the rain.
Now, I'm dressed for rain in SuperBirkie clogs and a pair of "work jeans" that will not require tugging up every 39 seconds and a tunic-length or short dress-like t-shirt. I had a steady relationship with these jeans and I trusted them. The SuperBirkie clogs were very troubling carrying the wet bags of soil up the stairs but I could manage. And it just kept raining and I kept on trucking through. It was noted that I was very zen about the whole thing.
And then, the sun comes out. YAY! And I keep dragging bags of soil upstairs to fill all these planters until I just totally lose my mind. Like a switch being flipped, I am so uncomfortable I cannot think and I'm just all about how totally uncomfortable I am. I'm so uncomfortable I cannot breathe or think. The jeans are shrinking like Shrinky Dinks and I'm pretty sure I'm going to die from it. My brain is a buzz of severe discomfort, and it's all about my jeans.
I know what you're thinking, but I'm usually pretty tough. I swear.
So, I text the customer that I'm going to have to go because I'm losing my mind over my pants. And she's like "um,ok" and I look at all the work I have left and I think about getting in the car for the 90 minute drive home, sitting in those pants and I...
Take my pants off and Finish. That. Gig.
Wearing no pants.
Only after I removed them did I realize the surveillance cameras everywhere. I seriously didn't care, anyways. So, now I'm finished with the job and I walk out to my car wearing no jeans, sat in 2 hours of traffic (no pants) and walked into my daughter's preschool and picked her up wearing nooooooo pannnnnnnnnttts.
A few weeks go by and I did another install and, since the pants-off episode I have bought some seriously kick ass work pants from Duluth Trading and I'm pretty sure I'm never going to have to take my pants off to finish a gig again. But just in case? I brought a nice caftan for the car ride home