He's Not Heavy; He's My Brother

Besides being extremely cute and able to grow a full beard by the age of 16, my little brother Jake is quite helpful around the house. Well, he doesn't live at my house, but every now and then I can get him to come by and help out with things (some physically demanding and some not). During my Insane Summer of Work Travel, Jake and his girlfriend Emily (Jemily, collectively) were sweet enough to drive me to the airport at 4am. Two. Weeks. In. A. Row. Saints, they are.

Yesterday, Jake was back to help me take out my air conditioner and put the storm door in.  It takes him 10 minutes to do something that would take me 2 hours and lots of swearing to accomplish. And, of course, he even brings his giant purple van, known as "The Tank", to haul away said air conditioner to be stored in my parents' basement until next summer.

(He walks through doors too)

In the process of moving things around, I was stupid enough to accidentally break one of the legs on one of my antique end tables. It was bad. But who is going to save the day and fix it? Jake, of course!