…some, sort-of. That is while I more or less been faithful to my journal, I have been a bit remiss making comments on the three boards I frequent most.
I swear, I’m just about as busy as if I were in the middle of haying season.
Shop time had me laying under the all Ollie enjoying myself horizontally removing a defunct speedometer drive. And was it ever defunctive. The primary drive shaft was broken into three pieces.
I had also spent some time making trash. That is correctly right. Straightening out my brother’s jumbled up plastic skins off the silage bales is one of my favorite occupations. He’s got to know this is one of my pet-peeves! We’ve talked about it! This behavior fits him right in there among my silver plated asshole’s lists. Assholes are not made. They’re practiced! Why? Because taking the sheets of one bale at a time makes them lighter and easier to handle whipping them out like putting sheets on a bed, then folded once and easily roll up.
To make my afternoon a rare good time success, I brought out three power saws and commenced to cut up some lovely kaput tires for next week’s trash pickup. (Whole tires tend to float on top the trash mountains, cut up they’ll bury. Thus quartered the trash men will pick them up.) To finish out my day I had to cook for myself, Frieda’s leg bothering her. Hmm strange. I remember when either one or both her limbs used to more than bothered the Hell out of me. (dream on this gray old fool) BGKC.