Recently I cleaned out the barn for the baby shower: I dragged most of the junk up in to the loft or out into the little roofed car port. A few days ago I moved some junk from the garage into the barn so that I could make room to move stuff from my shop into the garage. I swept, and now I plan to do it all in slow-motion reverse.
Things are neatly arrayed in the garage, so I’d like to move one tool at a time to its final home.
I don’t think I’ll get to shop maintenance and organization in earnest until after I’ve made a proper bed frame, and in classic fashion, it’ll be a hell of a bedframe. I promise myself this time that I’ll do a finer job cleaning. At least fine enough that I’m not afraid to go back into the shop for fear of getting lost in a dust storm.
The thing that indicates to me that summer’s turned around for the good is the arrival of a crate of peaches.
I bought a whole crate of peaches last summer, and I intend to do the same thing every summer for the rest of my life.
I love peaches, I could eat several a day. I could eat peaches until they make me sick, if they ever did. Ever since I ate the most delicious peach in creation, sold to me by a beautiful woman with no teeth on a beach in Portugal, they have been my favorite fruit.
Admitting that I love peaches and choosing to take action and buy as many as I want because c’mon, it’s not all that much money and they come in a nice crate, felt like a considerable point of growth.
I bought a whole crate of peaches last summer, and I intend to do the same thing every summer for the rest of my life.
I love peaches, I could eat several a day. I could eat peaches until they make me sick, if they ever did. Ever since I ate the most delicious peach in creation, sold to me by a beautiful woman with no teeth on a beach in Portugal, they have been my favorite fruit.
Admitting that I love peaches and choosing to take action and buy as many as I want because c’mon, it’s not all that much money and they come in a nice crate, felt like a considerable point of growth.