Yesterday was a study in convective heat transfer. A cold front pushed through, bringing steady 20mph winds and gusts over 40mph. It was a drizzly and blustery day — raw, I suppose.
The wind did its best to steal heat from the cabin, and I did my best to battle back. The thievery came out of the NW and NNW, which played to my advantage since we enjoy the shelter of terrain in that direction.
(I won.)
It’s great that the cabin is pretty tight, not the least bit drafty, which is a bonus since it has no ceiling and most of it isn’t insulated. Keeping the woodstove at a moderate burn was the ticket to comfort on Wednesday.
I’d committed to devoting much of the day to civil-procedure stuff, but before I could do that, two more pressing tasks beckoned. Smudge’s food canisters were empty…
…and I was down to a third of a rack of firewood.
Both would need addressing before the end of the day. I couldn’t think of a reason not to get them out of the way early.
No, the weather wasn’t ideal — 44°F, wind chill 38°F, light rain — but I pulled on an extra layer and enjoyed myself anyway. Again I used the truck, first backing it down to the shed and replenishing the Heeler’s supply of kibble.
Then I drove around to my cordwood stacks and began pitching splits into the bed.
I sensed that I needed maybe a little less than I’d brought up the other day. The rain had subsided some by that point, so I didn’t bother tarping my cargo.
With Miss Smudge sentenced to the bedroom, I removed what remained on the rack and set it aside, then carried the latest haul indoors and stacked it. The drier wood went back on top to be burned first.
Moving firewood around is a genuine workout. If you know, you know.
I still haven’t re-stocked the outdoor rack. It’s not that I’m avoiding the chore — taking it on just hasn’t found a place in my routine quite yet.
With the decks cleared, then, I dealt with irksome but necessary matters. This day I had reason to sift through the random files conveyed to me by plaintiff’s counsel after September’s hearing. I hadn’t yet looked at them, and yesterday I discovered a few things.
An original birth certificate (mine). My Ohio concealed-carry application. Court documents discharging my Chapter 7 case 16 years ago. A divorce decree (the first one). A meaningless marriage license (the second one).
None of that (or anything else I found) gave me pause. I saw it for what it is — a collection of artifacts from a not-very-linear life.
But all the same, a life well-lived.
I have no regrets. I have no reason to be ashamed. The man that I am — the man I’ve become through twists and turns, in failure I couldn’t’ve predicted and in success no one else can match — travels with me wherever I go.
And, with apologies to the songwriter, I’m nowhere near done.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable