- Dec 27, 2020
- 550
- 555
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- Country
- United States
- Faith
- Christian
- Marital Status
- Married
Well now
Look who's been neglectful
Where was I....
Ah, yes
Blow downs
Dead falls
They happen
Some notes from pre-move to the cabin, spring of 2015;
So, for all appearances sake, we sold the house...again.
This is only the third or fourth time in the last month.
Seems we attract kindly looking, well meaning folks with little blots on their record, like, ohhhh, sayyyy ax murdering.
Our HOA rules seem to frown on the silliest stuff.
Anyhoot, we agreed to scoot on outta our place in two weeks.
(yes, we are nuts)
Now we gotta twist our activity up a notch.
Nothing has been done at the cabin....nothing.
Haven't even been there since last fall when we closed it up for winter.
We've got two weeks to cram the rest of our crap into the container, whip down to the cabin, lay out a spot to put the container, unbutton the cabin for spring (it's scheduled to snow there for the next few days), and whip back up, get the container mover to load it up and point it in the direction of our cabin.
Thing is, since retirement (a couple days ago) we kinda got our days and nights mixed up.
Of which, when in yer sixties, seems to turn one into a shuffling irritable slack jawed zombie, sorting, packing, picking up things and putting them back down, shuffling off into another room, farting and scratching.
Meals have become sporadic.
I tend to forage in the fridge, and now I'm on a mission to wipe out whatever is in there.
Attempted to use up the homemade blackberry jam in a bowl t'wards the back of the fridge, hiding behind the antediluvian cantaloupe.
It had a skin on it.
Couldn't penetrate the membrane with a butcher knife...saving it for later. A candidate for fruit leather for sure.
Things is, I really don't have any idea what's 'good' or 'bad' in there.
Actually, the entire kitchen is a mystery world to me.
Not that long ago I finished off what I'd considered to be an ancient salad sittin' there on the counter in a stainless steel bowl.
My lady thanked me for taking out the compost.
Turns out compost ain't too bad if you put enough thousand island on it.
BMs tend to become a bit peculiar.
But, yeah, D day is here.
Gotta go from shuffle mode to scurry.
I no longer scurry well.
Lucky if I can maintain a steady plod.
Still got a good mosey.
But, gotta get my giddyup on.
I don't dare leave packing my stuff up to my lovely lady.
She has a tendency to heave armloads of anything into boxes.
Last move, five days before moving day;
'Dear, any idea where my toothbrush may be?'
'It's probably in one of those boxes marked misc.'
'Ah, yes, here it is, with the nest of extension cords, my set of ratcheting box end wrenches, and the toilet plunger.'
I'll do my best to type in updates as they occur...that is if she doesn't pack this keyboard today............
Look who's been neglectful
Where was I....
Ah, yes
Blow downs
Dead falls
They happen
Some notes from pre-move to the cabin, spring of 2015;
So, for all appearances sake, we sold the house...again.
This is only the third or fourth time in the last month.
Seems we attract kindly looking, well meaning folks with little blots on their record, like, ohhhh, sayyyy ax murdering.
Our HOA rules seem to frown on the silliest stuff.
Anyhoot, we agreed to scoot on outta our place in two weeks.
(yes, we are nuts)
Now we gotta twist our activity up a notch.
Nothing has been done at the cabin....nothing.
Haven't even been there since last fall when we closed it up for winter.
We've got two weeks to cram the rest of our crap into the container, whip down to the cabin, lay out a spot to put the container, unbutton the cabin for spring (it's scheduled to snow there for the next few days), and whip back up, get the container mover to load it up and point it in the direction of our cabin.
Thing is, since retirement (a couple days ago) we kinda got our days and nights mixed up.
Of which, when in yer sixties, seems to turn one into a shuffling irritable slack jawed zombie, sorting, packing, picking up things and putting them back down, shuffling off into another room, farting and scratching.
Meals have become sporadic.
I tend to forage in the fridge, and now I'm on a mission to wipe out whatever is in there.
Attempted to use up the homemade blackberry jam in a bowl t'wards the back of the fridge, hiding behind the antediluvian cantaloupe.
It had a skin on it.
Couldn't penetrate the membrane with a butcher knife...saving it for later. A candidate for fruit leather for sure.
Things is, I really don't have any idea what's 'good' or 'bad' in there.
Actually, the entire kitchen is a mystery world to me.
Not that long ago I finished off what I'd considered to be an ancient salad sittin' there on the counter in a stainless steel bowl.
My lady thanked me for taking out the compost.
Turns out compost ain't too bad if you put enough thousand island on it.
BMs tend to become a bit peculiar.
But, yeah, D day is here.
Gotta go from shuffle mode to scurry.
I no longer scurry well.
Lucky if I can maintain a steady plod.
Still got a good mosey.
But, gotta get my giddyup on.
I don't dare leave packing my stuff up to my lovely lady.
She has a tendency to heave armloads of anything into boxes.
Last move, five days before moving day;
'Dear, any idea where my toothbrush may be?'
'It's probably in one of those boxes marked misc.'
'Ah, yes, here it is, with the nest of extension cords, my set of ratcheting box end wrenches, and the toilet plunger.'
I'll do my best to type in updates as they occur...that is if she doesn't pack this keyboard today............
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