Y’know, whenever a hard day’s work takes the starch out of me, I think about a former colleague of mine at the gun counter in Ohio. Several years older than me and semi-retired after a distinguished military career, he confessed that he no longer could work two days in a row. His part-time schedule allowed him to recover.
That’s where I am now. This by-product of aging has the potential to be frustrating, even maddening. I avoid that simply by adjusting my pace — I still can be (by some definition) active and productive, but I do different things. When I feel the need to recover, my objectives are less ambitious.
If you’ve ever wondered why old men often “putter,” that’s it.
Monday, I gave myself permission to putter. The weather promised to be overcast and showery (which ended up not being the case), so I devoted my time to moving clothes, shoes, and other stuff from one bedroom to the other. And just as I’d done with the kitchen, everything got washed before I put it away in the cabin.
That meant five loads of laundry.
While my clothes were spinning and tumbling, I gave the galley a once-over to see what was still there. I discovered a couple of head-scratchers — like a brand-new Hamilton Beach chopper (pictured). And a Presto electric skillet, still sealed in its factory box.
A whole bunch of PYREX®. Various food-storage containers, most with lids. The junk drawer was its own adventure.
I puttered all damned day. You might be surprised at how much progress I made.
Yesterday afternoon I brought Miss Smudge over for a visit. It was obvious that she noticed how much had changed. (She notices everything.) That brought to mind a photo of the happy Heeler and me taken in September of 2023, the day the cabin landed — in an energetic game of fetch, I was flinging her favorite ball around the empty space.
We can’t do that now, that’s for sure. We’ve come a long way. We’ve been through a lot, the three of us — my girl Scout, Miss Smudge, and me.
It’ll be four years tomorrow that I first set foot on The Mountain. I had no idea then that someday this’d be my home. I certainly couldn’t’ve predicted my current circumstances.
But I wouldn’t trade this life for anything. The Mountain has changed me.
It’s great to be here.
I can’t remember the last time I lived with a porcelain kitchen sink. I grew up with one, but I’ve been clanging around in stainless-steel kitchen sinks for decades now.
The farmhouse-style apron sink in the cabin may have cost only ten bucks — brand-new, never installed, perfect condition — but replacing it would break the bank. That’s why I took a simple, inexpensive step to protect it.
That’s a silicone sink mat. It’s no substitute for being careful, but it’ll save the porcelain from the occasional oops.
As it turns out, the price was twice what the sink cost.
Late Monday afternoon, we did get storms. Quite the gully-washers.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable