One of the infinitely many things I apparently have not learned in my first 50 years of life is how to stack wood. A few days ago we had firewood delivered to our Bergamo home, and rather than standing by and watching the deliveryman hoof it all out of his trailer, I decided to help. He spoke no English (and I no Italian) which might have been part of the problem, but in my defense our next door neighbor Matteo was also there. He and I were dutifully stacking wood on one side (the open side not up against the wall), and Alessandro on the other.
About halfway up the stack our side collapsed sideways, in slow motion such that we weren't alarmed so much as dismayed as one piece after another found its momentum and rolled off the pile. Alessandro rolled his eyes and yelled 'ragazzi!' (boys!) and then proceeded to show us how to stack a column of wood on the end to buttress the rest of the stack. Which makes perfect sense, of course.
What made it so funny is that it was such the stereotypical incident you hear all the time from contractors, when you ask them for the price and they ask in response, are you going to help me?