PETER AND I — Or How Recovery Met Transformation
Steamy mid-afternoon arrived. Soaked in sweat, we took a smoke break on the roof and observed our handiwork. That's when Pete decided the house needed skylights and we took part of the roof off and threw it too into the pit.
By morning, he had decided he needed somewhere nobody cared about theater, someplace where the name Chekhov was more likely to be mistaken for a rifle than a playwright.