This morning, as I worked on a crossword puzzle and interrupted myself to watch squirrels pilfering birdseed from my feeders, I thought about all the minor household repairs that stare back at me from any room I enter. I think about them a lot. I just today got a new one - re-caulking the shower in our bathroom. Each day I think about the repairs, and when I will get around to them. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about them, and when I will get around to them. I have even in some cases made a list of what material I might need to accomplish them. A mental list actually, I don't do actual list lists. Add to this an 'outside the house' list (unwritten once again) involving yard, garden, automobile ... you get the idea. I'll get around to them also. Finally is the list from various volunteer gigs that I have. All of these I will get around to, eventually.
In my defense, the household stuff mostly involves construction or reconstruction of items, which ultimately involves that place in the far corner of my basement that I call my workshop, and that my elder daughter always called, "the graveyard for tools." It seems that whenever I start a project down there I am hindered by something: a tool I can't find (probably because it's out in the back garage where I last used it), an unfinished project that is occupying the work space that I need, or a tool I actually do not have and will have to buy. Surely you can see the dilemma here.
Ah, the "back garage." This is an edifice built to house up to three normal size automobiles with room to work around them. Right now it contains a 1992 Mazda Miata (small car) and sometimes a Honda Ridgeline (mid-size pickup truck) with very little room to work. The formerly empty space has accumulated two complete sets of tires and wheels, a snowblower, three bicycles, and a lot of stuff that really needs a home in a recycle center or landfill somewhere. I just have to haul it out. I'd like to have the room so my Miata and I can get up close and personal while I check to see why one cylinder is throwing oil. To free up the space I have to load up my trailer which means I have to insert the receiver in the hitch and hook it up, but my truck needs an oil change ... sigh.
Guess I'll go check the tire pressures on my wife's Prius - she asked me to last week, I think. By the way, I started writing this on Monday, the 25th.
Bye for now.
In my defense, the household stuff mostly involves construction or reconstruction of items, which ultimately involves that place in the far corner of my basement that I call my workshop, and that my elder daughter always called, "the graveyard for tools." It seems that whenever I start a project down there I am hindered by something: a tool I can't find (probably because it's out in the back garage where I last used it), an unfinished project that is occupying the work space that I need, or a tool I actually do not have and will have to buy. Surely you can see the dilemma here.
Ah, the "back garage." This is an edifice built to house up to three normal size automobiles with room to work around them. Right now it contains a 1992 Mazda Miata (small car) and sometimes a Honda Ridgeline (mid-size pickup truck) with very little room to work. The formerly empty space has accumulated two complete sets of tires and wheels, a snowblower, three bicycles, and a lot of stuff that really needs a home in a recycle center or landfill somewhere. I just have to haul it out. I'd like to have the room so my Miata and I can get up close and personal while I check to see why one cylinder is throwing oil. To free up the space I have to load up my trailer which means I have to insert the receiver in the hitch and hook it up, but my truck needs an oil change ... sigh.
Guess I'll go check the tire pressures on my wife's Prius - she asked me to last week, I think. By the way, I started writing this on Monday, the 25th.
Bye for now.
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Comments are always from "anonymous". Often I can identify the author by the content of the comment, but that much cogitation makes my 80 year-old brain tired. Please help out an old man and identify yourself within the text of the comment. Thanks for the comments whether or not you ID yourself. Tom