So earlier this evening, I'm standing at the kitchen sink and two motorcyclists come up the driveway. WTF?! I step out out the front door. "Uh, do I know you?" "We're the concrete guys," they answer cheerfully. Ah ha! I didn't recognize them. They were just stopping by to see how much stuff to bring tomorrow when they pour the "rat slab". Rat slab? Yep. So named because it's "just a crawl space - only rats and plumbers will hang out here. We don't care about plumbers."
Man, tough gig.
This is the bump out in the living room. The excavators will back fill it and it will get a nice slab -level with the living room floor - polished, I gather. Not a rat slab, in other words. This will be where cats and houseplants loll about indolently. (Do houseplants loll? I don't see why not.)
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