My back was hurting something fierce from some project or another, so I decided to get myself a massage. I figured some deep tissue manipulation might loosen up whatever was hurting, and I had Mary sign me up for a session at the spa she goes to.
Now I’ve never had a massage, and I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I told the lady my back was hurting, and to do whatever she thought might help it.
Take off your clothes, she said. I’ll be right back.
I figured she knew what to do, so I let her do it. She rubbed me down and pulled on my arms. She turned me over and rubbed my toes. It was all very pleasant, but it was more of a spa massage than a therapy massage, and not what I expected at all.
Would I do it again? Not for my back.
It was a nice day, and we’d just weeded the garden, so I headed out with the truck, looking for a load of mulch. At the garden center, they told me nobody was around who could run the bobcat, but he could either load my truck with a shovel, or I could come back in half an hour.
I did him a favor and came back in a half hour, but ‘Robert,’ who’d come back to load my mulch with the bobcat, had gotten tired of waiting for me, and left.
So the first guy shows up again, and he says he can do it with a shovel, or I can wait for Robert, who’s already been called back yet again.
Just as he started shoveling, Robert shows up, revs up the bobcat, and heads for the pile.
And just as he was getting started, the owner shows up and shoos everyone away, and he’s gonna load my mulch for me himself, dad gummit.
Except that he’d hurt himself in a fall a few days earlier, and he couldn’t quite climb into the bobcat by himself. So I -um- leveraged him into the cab, and he loaded my truck with my yard of mulch.
Cider season, you’ll recall, was a bust, because I couldn’t get the boom started.
And the boom wouldn’t start because …. hmmm. Why wouldn’t the boom start?
According to google, it had to be the battery.
But the battery was charged, and the tractor battery didn’t start it either, so that can’t be it.
I changed out the starter and I farted around with the solenoid, but I never got it fixed, and apple season came and went.
And then Mary went to mow the lawn one last time, and the trrractor wouldn’t start.
I added two and two.
What are the odds that I’d have two bad batteries at the same time? Not good.
What are the odds that google was right after all? Not bad.
I finally closed on the Stowe house, and I am the proud owner of a real piece of shit.
She didn’t make it easy. She went radio silent, and it took a house call from her lawyer the day before moving day to get the deed signed. We closed. She and the movers moved most of the good stuff, and she’s got 10 days to go thru what’s left, and then go away.
It was a lot of bother, but it’s done.
And now I can start to get it stabilized for winter.
The entryway had collapsed, so I closed it off with plywood.
The roof leaks, so I spent some time up top, patching holes.
What a project.