For all of my high-toned talk about living within the limits imposed by aging, I’m still a stubborn old son-of-a-bitch. Bullheaded, even. I resist the walls closing in, the loss of strength and stamina, the ever-decreasing ability to tolerate adverse conditions.
Today started out pleasantly enough — bright skies, relatively cool air, only a hint of a breeze from the southwest. We knew it wouldn’t last, so we made the most of our coffee time outdoors.
Both Deb and I had tired of seeing the skeletal frame of the soft-sided Harbor Freight shed just sitting there, waiting for us to summon the motivation to fit it with its roof and walls. Seduced by the comfort of the early morning, we decided to finish the job today.
I mean, how long could that take, anyway?
The answer, as it turned out, including tidying up the site and hauling a few items over to it, was four hours. We finished in the heat of the day, under a blazing sun — 93°F, with a heat index of 104°F.
I took frequent breaks. I chugged Gatorade and water. None of that helped — I pushed myself way too hard today, past my limits, and I’m fortunate to be here typing this tonight.
The love of work is in my nature. I live to accomplish things, and I’m not a fan of excuses. Those tendencies are what put me in jeopardy today. I simply must be smarter about this shit.
On the bright side, I guess, the soft-sided shed is complete. It’s a simple thing with a simple purpose — a place to keep stuff out of sight and out of the weather. Notably, it has a tarp for a floor, and the woodchipper (lashed to one side of the framework) serves as an anchor.
Frankly, I can’t recommend this shed. It was a bitch to put together. At least it’s done.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m goin’ into recovery mode. Today really put a hurtin’ on me, and it’ll take a bit for me to bounce back.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB