In the meantime, of course, there remains the Grinding of the Welds of Humiliation. Between the teeth-shattering whine (it's special!) of the die grinder, the turn-your-bones-to-jello rattle of the belt grinder, and the air compressor that's bigger than my last car, there's enough noise in that shop to wake up Helen Keller. We wear ear protection, of course (I've rigged mine to play Depeche Mode -- amazing what you can learn from snow boarders) and use sign language. However, we can't use normal ASL sign language, because we're also rigged up in respiratory gear and welding gloves. It's the equivalent of talking with your mouth full, LOL.
So we've kinda come up with some impromptu combination of Navy Seal sign language + dorks dressed like insects in welding gloves = Circus Seals who grind and weld but look like the Space Ants who've come to conquer your planet. Don't worry, we come in peace. But at least we understand each other. And we're easily distracted by shiny objects and power tools...
So here's the thing. We're working on this horrid piece of crap weld from one of my two Cursed Coronet Projects (I have two which will not let me finish and deliver them. I hate them. They're fucking possessed. I'm not sure what will happen if and when I do conquer either of these goddamn jobs -- will world peace break out? Armageddon? I DO NOT KNOW. I MAY NEVER KNOW). And there is so much crap dirt being thrown from the sander onto the piece neither of us can see if we're making any progress on the thing.
So I, in my Space Ant suit and respirator, blow on it.
I've discovered now that's it's possible to make a surprisingly large range of recognizable facial expressions while completely covered in safety equipment.
This -- o_O -- for example.
Yeah.