A bunch of Deb’s photos from yesterday took their sweet time uploading to the cloud, and I didn’t have a chance to include them in my blog post. Most captured scenes later in the morning, after the shed had landed, and during our move-in. Here are some of those images.
I want to call your attention to the last photo in the gallery. That’s where the shed had been since February 17th, 2022. Only some sheet metal and our woodchipper remain, which we hope to remove tomorrow.
Also notice the three images of Deb’s cousin on his tractor. Just as he did for us on that February day, he brought us a shedwarming gesture — a load of gravel to ease the transition between the pad and the ramp.
“It’s pretty redneck.”
More than once, that’s how I’ve heard Deb describe to others what we’re doin’ and how we’re livin’ up here on The Mountain.
And she says it with great pride, I might add.
Saturday we waged The Great Poop Tank Battle. Sunday a professional joined the fight and helped us win, and we emptied the shed of its contents. Yesterday the shed itself got moved to the homesite, after which we hauled everything up here and stowed it in orderly fashion.
We figured we owed ourselves a day off.
Not that we were completely idle, mind you. I gassed up the generator and had it purring early, and I topped-off the fresh-water tank from the full barrel sitting next to the RV. (I’ll need to make my regular gas and water runs tomorrow morning.) Then Deb and I threw several days’ trash into the truck bed and took it to the Marion County Transfer Station.
We drove to Mountain Home for vape supplies. and we paid a visit to Home Depot for window coverings and concrete blocks (for the shed). In Gassville, we stopped to evaluate a laundromat (I’m tellin’ you, it’s like a NASA clean room) and lunched at our favorite roadside burger joint.
Back on The Mountain, we napped.
I can’t extend my hiatus into tomorrow, what with chores to do and the last couple of things to bring back from Deb’s cousin’s place, but — and I can’t speak for Deb — I fully intend to take Thursday (mostly) off. This old body needs to recover.
As I predicted a year ago, the Silverado has taken on the role of workhorse. At this point there aren’t too many things the bed of the truck hasn’t hauled — light loads and heavy, construction materials and virtually everything we moved from the motorhome to The Mountain.
Cargo has to be secured, of course. For routine use over the years, I’ve tried rope and nets, pack straps and ratcheting tie-downs. But for my money, nothing beats rubber bungee straps, aka “tarp straps.”
I’m not talkin’ ’bout those wimpy elastic shock cords. Tarp straps are thick black rubber with a steel S-hook on each end. They don’t stretch very much. The good ones are molded, with ribs running lengthwise, not stamped from a sheet of rubber.
I keep eight of them clipped to the tie-down loops I added to the inside wall of the Silverado’s bed. That ensures that they’re right at-hand when I need them. And I always put ’em back when I’m done.
Handy as they are, tarp straps don’t solve every problem. Though they do just fine steadying a half-dozen five-gallon cans of gasoline and multiple 40-gallon totes of household goods, they’re a poor choice for holding a lawn mower or a 55-gallon barrel of water in place. (Ask me how I know.) That’s what ratchet straps are for.
It’s a simple thing. It’s cheap. It works. I can’t ask for more than that.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB