We're not a bad team, Everett and I, as long as we do things in the right order and each to his own strengths. If I throw the wood through the door, and he stacks it, it works well. He is a meticulous stacker, and I even have time to sit and sip my hot tea while he catches up. If it was the other way around, I'd be standing inside, tapping my toes, waiting for him to get more wood in for me to stack, because I move at twice—maybe three times— his speed, and he'd never keep up with me.