Donald stood no more than 10′ from me all weekend giving me grief. “Less talking! More working!” Or “Why aren’t you done yet?” And “Move faster!” Along with “Why don’t you have any food for me?” And finally the ever popular “This is my house! Begone with you!”
Demanding little guy! On top of all the insults he would peck at my legs while mixing concrete. I’m telling you, he was the world’s worst micromanager.