So the answer really is, “nothing”.

Rolled in this morning at around 1:15.  Of course the flight was late. 

Not chronically late,  like the time I was two and a half hours late getting back from Barcelona to Vienna on a Sunday, which subsequently meant that I had to take a taxi from “Wien Mitte”,  since the subway system had by then shut down,  messing up my whole, “I can get from my front door all the way to the airport and back for eight Euros” program.

Gah! Total transportation budget out the window.  I was miffed.

Actually,  not so much.  I think I would have been mightily upset if there hadn’t been taxis hanging around,  or if I perhaps didn’t have the fare in my pocket. 

No, this was more like about 20 minutes late which,  considering it was the last flight of the day, is almost something to be expected,  since most of these types of flights consist of flying back and forth between two stops,  so if there’s any “issues”,  it’s a domino effect.

Not sure if the crew would have had to turn around and fly out again in the morning?  I would hope not.  We were both a little groggy this morning, but neither of us were faced with ferrying a bunch of people half way across the country.

 

It’s still hot and humid here,  but the new air conditioning is working just tickety-boo.  Mind you,  there is a bit of a breeze outside,  and I did cut the grass last night at around 8:30 or so,  and it was tolerable.  (well,  depending on your take on “tolerable”?)

Very easy to work up a sweat of course, but it would have been way worse in the middle of the afternoon. 

No thanks.

 

So what was I saying?  Right.

From time to time,  when Travelling Companion comes home from work,  or when I have the car and pick her up from work,  there is that one question that gets asked.  “So, what did you do today?”   And most of the time I just say, “Meh, nothing.”

I think some days she actually believes me,  but truth be told,  whatever the hell it is I do all day is so helter skelter, that coming up with an actual comprehensive (and comprehensible) answer is just too much of a challenge.

Today however,  I decided to finally tackle something that has been annoying me for going on twenty years now.  Nothing to do with my personal appearance or well being either.  There are many areas of improvement there,  but let’s not do that.

No,  I’m talking about the door to what is now the sewing room,  which has always been just the worst example of how to hang a door I think I’ve ever seen. 

 

First of all,  houses do “settle”.   So back in the nineties at some point,  I had to half-assedly relocate the strike,  so that the door would actually latch.

 

Not a very tidy job I’ll admit,  but there was always the intention to “get back to that one day”,  so I wasn’t too concerned about aesthetics.  That’s my excuse anyway.

The door stop had already been removed on that previous occasion, and I simply hadn’t bothered to put the thing back again.

 

I also must have messed around with the jam,  since I discovered that someone had nailed it back in place with ardox (spiral cut) finishing nails.   The original nails in this house are smooth.  A lot easier to remove too,  by the way.

So fine,  it sort of worked.   The thing was though,  the door itself wasn’t hung properly.   The top hinge was way off,  and that was from the original installation.  Where I have the tip of that screwdriver,  the hinge is out of alignment by a good eighth inch. 

No amount of adjustment is going to sort the thing out.

So,  it’s gotta come out.

 

Not a big deal if you have a reciprocating saw.  You may recall our little toilet seat surgery of a few weeks back?  Handy dandy tool,  even though the one I have isn’t cordless. 

I sometimes lust after a cordless version, but since I’m not one to scamper up on roof tops, thereby having to run miles of extension cord,  it’s pretty hard to justify.

 

So,  this is going to be a “do over”.  Like when you screw up as a kid.  Just do it over. 

Of course,  the last time I messed around with this door jamb,  I was really only trying to make it work a little better.  I didn’t really succeed.  However,  since I removed and remodelled a closet a few years back,  I now had a spare door jamb squirreled away in the attic of the shed. 

I’m feeling pretty good about this.

 

 

I was feeling even better that the thing was too long to start with,  which mean being able to cut off a good inch of the messed up part,  but then when I held it up there,  there was just one little problem!

  

Oh c’mon!  Are you kidding me?

Virtually all of the door jambs in this house are five and a half inches.  Not this one.  It’s six and a quarter.  (These were done in the pre metric days)  There are a couple that are just…six and a bit.  What?  Were they just ripping them up as they went along??  Oh gawd.

 

The door right next to it?  Five and a half.  The door leading out to the veranda?   Five and a half.

 

For some reason,  known only to the silly bugger who installed that door,  it’s an odd size.    Well,  actually I kind of “get it”,  since it’s right next to the chimney,  and there were some issues with the framing.  So they layered on the plaster,  shimmed out the trim, and that was as good as it got.  And that wasn’t very good.

 

So the short term solution was to make some lunch and bitch about it here.  

I’m here all afternoon.  Be sure and tip your server.

 

I’m sure I can phone around and see if there are wider jambs to be had out there,  but I’ll be hard pressed to match the look of what’s there.  I may consider cobbling something together from the parts I have on hand. 

We do have the technology.   *sigh*

 

 

 

Have a fine weekend.

 

Thanks for lookin’.   Wish me luck.

 

.

Now if I could only find those sandals.

Actually,  they’ve been found.  But those few words have been rattling around in my brain off and on.  Aren’t you lucky.

We’ve gone from nipple tweaking cold,  to torrential downpours to now hot and humid.  Welcome to Southern Ontario.

Sorry,  I had to put this one in:

 

 

Whenever the Viennese would mention or grumble about their supposed humidity, I would try not to be insulting or condescending in any way,  but they really had no idea. I’ve more than once explained the weather in Vienna as being like a “weather island”.   (Wetter Insel auf Deutsch)

 

And really,  it’s not that bad.  We’ve had humidity so bad you almost could swim through it.  I’m trying to keep my wit dry.  It’s a challenge.  Everything outside this morning was mighty damp. 

 

The good news is,  I’ve finally had a reason to try out our new air conditioning.  Bob is pleased.  The thermostat in the main hallway is showing 72.  

I know,  we Canadians are supposed to be all about measuring in Celsius,  but I’ve always set the thermostat to Fahrenheit, since it’s easier to fine tune a setting anywhere between 68° and 72°.  That’s four degrees.  Whereas with Celsius,  that same set of parameters is only just slightly more than two degrees.   Did you get that? 

 

 

 

Our little house guests have hatched and are already starting to get a little crowded in the nest.

 

They have their mouths open not just for food.  It think it’s a wee bit warm in there.

 

The parents don’t seem to crap on the car quite as much as they did a few weeks back, but I still like to put it in the garage whenever it’s convenient.   Either that or do a cursory inspection before heading out anywhere.  I’m not overly keen on driving around with bird crap on the car.  I don’t like it and besides,  I don’t think it’s all that great for the paint.  Oh, and Mom and Dad DO NOT LIKE squirrels.   Seems I can tolerate a little crap after all, ‘cause we’re on the same page when it comes to those bastards. They like to chew on the house.  *grumble*

 

Oh,  and someone asked about Westjet flying out of Toronto?   Yes,  it all depends on where you’re headed.  I just took a brief look at their site,  and you can get from Toronto to Calgary,  or go from Hamilton to Calgary.  If you want to get to Kahului, Maui say,  you need to leave from Toronto.  Probably changing planes in Vancouver.  I suppose the choice between Hamilton to Calgary over Toronto to Calgary might depend on the day of the week?  Not sure.   Heaps easier out of Hamilton, I’ll say that much. 

 

Well, I suppose I should be doing something besides this.  Travelling Companion doesn’t get in until midnight,  so once again at least the traffic will be OK. 

Big consolation.

 

Keep it between the ditches, and keep your powder dry.

Thanks for stopping in.

 

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Could it rain any freakin’ harder?

 

 

And I cleaned out the eaves troughs a few weeks back.  Makes no never mind.  There could be a downspout every two feet and it would still be spilling over.

Of course,  since it’s coming mostly from the East, I did get a few drops on the east side of the chimney.  *grumble*

Nothing where I did my repair,  thankfully.   That would really suck.

What would suck worse of course,  would be being in the path of an EF5 tornado.  So really,  in the complaints compartment,  I got nothin’.

Isn’t it supposed to be “April showers bring May flowers”?   We’re behind our times.

 

Travelling Companion seems to be doing fine in Calgary,  although after she phoned last night,  she said she was going to bed.  We were up mighty early,  and there’s that two hour difference. 

We weren’t entirely sure that we’d be all bright eyed and bushy tailed that early yesterday morning,  so I broke down and set the alarm.  The only thing was,  I think that particular alarm clock/radio/whatever has lived its life,  since the stupid thing just kept on flashing,  no matter what I did. So I turfed it out.

That meant breaking out another one that we had squirreled away which, after a bit of head scratching, I was able to figure out.  It’s just too bad though that I forgot to shut the damned thing off for good after it woke us up yesterday morning,  since it very reliably woke me up at the exact same time THIS morning.  

Yay me.

I don’t even need to KNOW the time,  so getting blasted out of bed at 4:15 makes it all that much more thrilling.

 

Um ya.  And that’s the extent of my “problems”. 

Move along.

 

Hope you’re warm and dry,  wherever you are.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

 

 

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I get ideas.

Most of which are goofy,  I’ll readily admit.  Once in a while though, there’s a glimmer.  Only just a glimmer.

Last night as I was whipping up yet another banana bread (hey, it’s ALL I GOT),  it occurred to me that our drawer full of handy kitchen utensils was mighty crowded.  There always seems to be more things needed than there’s room for.  And no,  I didn’t take a picture.  There’s nothing in there that would leave any scars or anything, it’s just the usual baking cr*p.

Which brings me to these:

I mean,  they could be hanging.  Somewhere.

I don’t really like too much clutter in the kitchen though,  so that usually means I’m at an impasse.  Then the idea.

There’s no measuring or drawings here.  I just hack away until I come up with something.  That’s the big “plan”.

And later that morning…

Bob’s yer Uncle.  Or Dad, or something.

 

The hidden agenda for whipping up the banana bread,  apart from the over ripe bananas that seem to always manifest themselves,  was that Travelling Companion would need a snack this morning right around breakfast time.  She flew Westjet to Calgary,  and they’re not really known for their snacks.  That,  by the way,  is OK with me,  since then you can take along just whatever your little heart desires,  knowing full well *going in* that you’ll not be fed.  I’ve been offered some crap on planes in the past, and would really have preferred to have just taken my own dinner,  had I known how horrid the food was.

So we left for John C. Munroe airport this morning at about 5:15.   Traffic was light,  I’ll offer that much.   Oh,  that’s Hamilton Airport,  for those of you from far away.

And here’s the thing,  it’s right around a half hour from our front door.  As a matter of fact,  I had dropped off T.C. and was back here eyeing the kitchen cupboards already at 6:20.   So just about an hour round trip.

I can dig it.   The thing is though,  there are only certain places you can get to from Hamilton.  Thankfully,  Calgary happens to be one of them.

It’s probably a good thing this airport isn’t quite so very busy just yet,  since they have a ways to go to get it all streamlined-like.

That’s the main entrance.  Departures AND arrivals.   I think the gates are about 50 metres on the other side of that door. 

The only slight near wrinkle was when I damned near missed the entrance.

Now I ask you.  Do you see a big ole sign that says “Hamilton International Airport”?   Well,  neither did I, ‘cause there ain’t one. 

The Merc has good brakes,  it turns out.

Oh, yes there is that tiny little sign with the outline of an airplane,  but I thought there would be an actual sign. 

Silly me.

Anyhoodle,   we got there in plenty of time,  and she just now called to say she was on the ground in Cow Town.   This isn’t her first time,  by the way.  There was life before we went to Europe.  She’ll be on her way to Airdrie in short order.  That’s the location of the Company that Cannot be Named. 

 

Not nap time just yet.  Stuff to do. 

 

Keep your head down!

Oh wait,  that only applies to golf.  Never mind.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

 

 

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Unpacking the last few things.

Been meaning to check in.  I guess I’ve been busy.  Or lazy.  Well,  only lazy in the blogging department.  I think I’ve been putting in longer days than when I had an actual J.O.B.   Sad but true.

Pictures can tell the rest.

 

OK so,  we’ve seen this.

And this.

The big difference now of course is,  the room is really,  really white.

Hey man,  she wanted white.  Me no argue.

But then comes the final bits.

 

Reminded once again of just how well the movers packed us.  There was to be no damage whatsoever.  Bit of a pain in the butt on the taking apart end of things,  but I’m OK with that.

Oh,  the bubble wrap!  Regular garbage pick-up again this coming week.  Thankfully.

 

 

And there we have a storage/cutting table,  back where it was five years ago.

Then there’s the bookcase,  and one more table.

We’ll figure out what to put on those bare walls.   Maybe little thread holder thingies?  Not my deal.  Maybe we’ll strike a committee.

 

I still have to deal with the trim around the door (casing) and along the floor.  I’ve threatened to add a little colour.  Wish me luck.

And that,  will be that.

Meanwhile,  I found myself in a bit of trouble the other night,  since I had graciously donated a bag of used clothing at one of the local drop off locations,  only to discover that Travelling Companion was going to set it out for pick up this morning.  Oops.

We didn’t come to blows,  thankfully.

It took very little effort for the two of us to come up with two more bags of clothes,  just like that.   I unloaded all my old “Facilities Services” shirts,  along with a few other items that I’m no longer interested in taking out and putting away as the seasons change.  I haven’t a clue what T.C. pitched out,  and I’m sure it’ll make very little difference in our lives.  We still have way too much stuff,  but this too shall come to pass.

Seemed a bit odd that the Canadian Diabetic Association would send out a truck on a Sunday,  but what do I know?

Pretty convenient if you ask me.  I didn’t even have to toddle off to a used clothing bin.

 

It’ll be an early morning tomorrow,  but maybe I’ll touch on that later.  Best to keep this painlessly short.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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I’d make a lousy reporter.

Whether watching victims get pulled out of a pile of debris in Bangladesh or Oklahoma,  I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to take it. 

I almost had to switch channels this morning when the rescuers were hauling children out of the mess that used to be their school.  Travelling Companion doesn’t look over at me.  I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me tear up.

Our weekend here was resoundingly uneventful. 

If having some excitement means having the roof blown off your house, I’ll settle for boring. 

But it wasn’t boring.  It was just the way I like it on a long weekend.  The neighbourhood is blissfully quiet,  with the exception of the sounds of a lawn mower or leaf blower here or there.  And it’s not as though everyone has buggered off somewhere “up North” for the weekend.  There just doesn’t seem to be that much activity. 

Meanwhile,  the painting prep continues.  I’d like to call it painting, but I’m not quite there yet.  That may very well happen this afternoon.  Seems like the prep work always takes the longest,  and in this case there were a few glitches along the way. 

The cabinets were built in before the flooring was changed,  which wouldn’t be that big a deal,  except that the other wrinkle is that I didn’t really allow enough room at one end where the boiler pipe/convector terminates. 

It seems that I only get to do these things once,  so whatever I learn from my little errors in judgement don’t help out me one bit.  I guess that’s the true meaning of “custom work”?

Maybe? 

See where it’s kinda ‘busy’ there in the corner?  What a bonehead.

Well,  I want to paint there,  so I ended up yanking that end cabinet out.

Hey,  I put the sucker in there.  I can sure as anything take it out.

Meanwhile,  there’s the baseboard convectors that need painting.  It’s never a good idea to get paint on the fins,  plus of course they needed to be vacuumed.  The cleaner they are,  the more heat they give off.  And no,  we’re far from needing any heat,  thankfully.

 

 

And well,  I figured while I was at it,  I may as well make life a little easier for myself and cover up all the millwork with some of the paper left over from the move.   Milking that stuff until the bitter end.

The good news is,  even though we had a brutal rain storm last night,  we had no leaks.

Sqweeee!

 

That’s now primer on there.  (see,  something happened)

It would have completely sucked if it had leaked after all that work. 

Now,  if we have an east wind,  that’s a different story.   There’s some tiny crevice where the water can get in,  but that’s over on the other side of the chimney.   We dodged that bullet too. *phew*

 

Well,  that’s my lunch over with.  Back to it.

Keep your powder dry.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

Cops out front and possums in the back.

Neither of which were terribly inconspicuous I might add.

I try to keep my Gladys Kravitz gene in check,  but once in a while I happen to notice something that doesn’t quite look right.  I mean, if you park your buggy and wander around the neighbourhood,  you may be trying to sell something,  but nine times out of ten, there’s something “up”.

I figure I’ll stick Gladys in there,  just in case you’re unsure as to who that might be.

Speaking of something that just might be “up”,  it was a few weeks ago I suppose,  when there was someone at the door,  quite late at night I might add,  and they were supposedly from ADT.  

Of course,  this was before Daughter Number Two and Hubby moved out,  so there was suddenly a dog at the door to greet them,  which is quite fine with me.  Anyway, there was some offer to “put one of their signs on the lawn”, and T.C. basically sent them on their way.   Well,  it just so happens that ADT had no knowledge of anyone cold calling in our neighbourhood,  nor is it one of their marketing schemes.   So our guess was that these two yokels were simply checking to see which places were easily broken into?   Why else would they come around after nine at night?

And no,  I wasn’t the one to answer to door,  or I just might have called the cops on the spot.  I was “resting”…

 

So ya,  I take a dim view of cars just hanging around.   Of course,  the two latest yokels out front were either from the constabulary,  or I’ll eat my shorts.

 

Oh,  and the possums?   They were just hanging out in the neighbour’s back yard.  But really,  not “hanging”,  so much as mucking about on the ground.  For a few hours I might add.

I apologize for making you squint,  but Daughter Number Two took her nice long lens away when she moved out.  *sniff*.  Prolly should get my own one fine day.

I’m not going to offer any theories as to just what they might have been up to for the whole time they were there,  but my best guess is that there will be some little Possums in these parts in the not too distant future.  “Playing Possum” takes on a whole new meaning.

 

Let me see.  What else?   Not much.

The clean up continues,  along with the repair job in the upstairs room.  I think I’ll be ready for primer tomorrow.  T.C. is getting anxious,  but hasn’t been after me too much.  I try not to do a half-assed job, so that usually means not getting ahead of myself.

 

There will be pictures at some point. 

Oh,  and the window company has cashed our cheque and started production.  Three to four weeks.  I might need to snap out of it.

 

A bid you all a fine weekend.  Buckle up.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Spending like a drunken monkey.

Or is that “drunken sailor”?   I think it is,  although I wouldn’t want to offend any sailors.  Or Coast Guardsmen.  Is that what they’re called?

Anyway, that’s what it felt like.  Between sending off a cheque for a considerable sum for 50% down on the windows,  and then just running all over town wearing out my bank card, I felt like I was getting carried away.  And I was only really buying essentials. 

OK, maybe that’s why my bank card crapped out at the beer store?  Not really essential? 

Not sure what happened there,  and the bank lady had no helpful hints.  “Maybe the chip was squished?”  I didn’t think they got “squished”.   At least the bank was open and I was able to get a new card. 

Ah technology. 

It’s all fine and dandy until it craps out.  She wanted to know if I wanted the “flash” on my card?  That’s so you can tap it up against one of the fancy new sensor type gizmos at coffee shops and gas stations.  It’s also there so someone can come by and steal the information from your card.  There’s an “app” for that,  apparently.

Admittedly I keep my wallet in my front pocket, and would probably notice someone waving their smart phone around my junk,  but I decided I didn’t need that feature.

 

So I struck out at Home Despot on Sunday.  Should have known.  It’s a store for the “do it yourselfer”.  So they had various types of drywall compound,  but I wanted plaster.   Yes,  plaster.  I had a bit of a gap to fill,  and I knew drywall compound wasn’t going to do the job.  It cracks too much when it cures,  if you put it on that thick.

That meant I had to go to a place where they have actual building supplies.  And people who know what they’re talking about.  Well,  maybe that’s harsh.  The bloke at Home Despot knew enough to know that they didn’t have what I wanted.  I suppose that would have to do.

 

 

So I took the “truck”.

  

That’s the stuff.  No fancy labels for the “do it yourselfer”.  It’s scratch coat plaster.  Mix up as much or as little as you need.

 

Works like a charm.

I had to dig a chunk of it out this morning, since it felt like it hadn’t gripped the way I liked.  Sure enough, there was some punky bits up in there.  So I had to mix up a wee bit more.   I’m sure you care.

Mañana.

 

Actually, speaking of trucks.  I have to get one.

Cramming stuff in the back of the Merc is starting to get a bit tired.

It is possible,  but not really practical.  I hate vehicle shopping,  but I need to suck it up. 

Those are shelves that I’ll massage into storage units for son-in-law’s comic books.  He and Daughter Number Two are getting their new digs nicely organised,  and there can never be too much storage.

Or getting stuff up off the counter,  say.

Put that up yesterday.

 

Meanwhile I’ve been pressed into service to go and rototill a small garden that Travelling Companion is going to “co-manage”   (like that term?) with her sister.   A rototiller does not fit in the back of the Merc,  so I have a call in to my nephew to borrow the truck I sold him in 2008. 

Still waiting.

 

I miss that truck.  *sigh*

 

His seventeen year old son has been driving it.  Hopefully I won’t be too horrified when I get behind the wheel.  *shudder*

I remember being a teenager.  And being at the wheel of a borrowed vehicle.   

Again.  *shudder*.

 

 

Well,  I better go load up my hawk..

 

 

No need to keep those sticks anywhere but back in the closet.  You know what I mean.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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Kinda stoked.

Doesn’t happen very often, I realise.  I’m just not a very excitable boy.

I may have mentioned that I’ve been ‘in talks’ with a window company up in Sundridge, (here in Ontario) on the subject of completing the set of replacement windows I’ve been working on for just about the last decade or so?

I would have kept soldering on, except for that whole, “say, let’s go and live in Europe for almost five years” program. 

Hey, you take what comes along.  So everything in the house department came to a stand still.

Anyhoodle,  the lady running the place has very kindly submitted a quote for the four windows that I’d like to install,  and the price is actually right around what I thought we’d be paying for just the front window!   Maybe we were daydreaming or something,  but I thought it would be way more.

I spoke with her on Friday,  and she was complementary on my drawings, which was probably the only thing I ever learned in grade seven and eight shop,  so that was nice.  Plus of course,  it doesn’t hurt to know a bit about window jargon, so as not appear as a complete noob.   Manufacturers hate noobs, as near as I can figure,  so it always helps to speak the lingo.  Yes kids,  learn the language!

I’ve replaced roughly fifteen windows so far,  and all I want to do is get it done.  I say “roughly”, since it depends on whether you want to count the individual windows,  or the openings.  I suppose it would be 12 openings.  So we’ll leave it at that.

I was describing the concept of cedar windows to one of my pub buddies on Friday,  and he really and truly didn’t get it.  But here’s the thing.  With the exception of the fact that window technology wasn’t quite up to snuff back in the fifties,  the existing cedar windows in the house have faired very well.  The wood itself is fine.  Cedar is like that.  It’s a wood that has a lot going for it in terms of resistance to rot.  It’s also very dimensionally stable.

Of course,  the only downfall is,  the latest technology in 1958 was something called “sash less sliders”.   So ya,  just glass on glass.  R value?  *pfft* Damned little.   Plus of course,  the thermo panes in the big front window failed years ago.  R value?  Only marginally better than damned little.

 

Meanwhile,  I have other irons in the fire.

 

Looks pretty bad, I realise.  But there was a leek there,  and I *believe* the problem has been cured.  The east side of the chimney is another story.  The jury is out on that side.

Anyway,  I’m down to the scratch coat of plaster there,  so I might go over to Home Despot and pick up a bag of plaster,  rather than just go with drywall compound.   Drywall compound will take forever.

Then there was another thought that popped into my pea brain,  and that was to check the oil in the compressor.   I’ve had this compressor for about twenty years,  and it’s still running like a trooper.  The main thing is not to neglect it I suppose. 

You can have your “oil-less” compressors.  I’ll take the old fashioned kind that take oil.  I suspect they last longer.

 

OK,  off I go.  Gonna go chat with all the “knowledgeable” folks over at Home Despot.  Ha!

 

Happy Mother’s day to all you Mudders out there.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

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Given the bird.

I realise that sometimes I might need a little outside motivation to get at certain chores,  like looking at the grass grow, that kind of thing, but I was getting tired of washing the bird poop off the car.  Simple as that.

See,  we have a “guest” here, and I don’t mean the two legged, or even four legged kind.  No, it’s a bird.

Every year (I think) we have an issue with some bird or other wanting to make a nest at the top of a pillar outside our front door.  Usually it’s a Morning Dove, and they’re not the brightest bunch in the bird world,  and the reward for allowing them to stay is usually a couple broken eggs on the stairs for me to clean up. 

This time around,  we have a Mamma Robin.

From the bathroom:

Not easy to see her, since there’s a screen in the way there.

I suppose I should have knocked down the stupid nest right from the start,  but now…well, that would just be wrong.  Besides, it’s really a well made nest.  Not the couple strands of crap those Morning Doves would put up there.  Plus,  she doesn’t make a sound.  Morning Doves?  Oh Gawd.

 

Of course,  since there was “stuff” in the garage,  we’ve been leaving the car outside,  and there’s been an abundance of splatter,  shall we say?  I’m fairly sure it’s her.  Probably takes exception to us hanging around her place and all. 

*mumble*

See,  all of this cr*p was in the garage.  There’s an assortment of mattresses there.

Not that hard to move,  but I was just not really looking forward to it?

I still have to deal with the bubble wrap, but that’ll be for later.

The thing is,  once upon a time,  when I was working in a school,  I’d simply put all the cardboard in the back of the pick-up truck,  take it to work and heave it in the cardboard bin.  Easy peasy.

I miss that.  Now I have to cut it all up into smaller chunks,  so it can more readily fit into the recycling truck that comes every Thursday.

Oy.

Now that I think on it,  I don’t think I actually had to work as hard, when I went to work?   I mean, there were such a thing as a coffee breaks,  and taking an hour for lunch. 

Don’t get all bent out of shape,  I didn’t get paid for those times,  but at least I was in the routine of actually taking that time. 

These days it just seems that I go until I collapse.   Mind you,  I have lost six pounds since moving home from Wienerland,  so that’s a plus.

I have no real “objective” when it comes to my weight,  but I do wish I could get rid of a wee bit more around my middle.  Somehow I think I’m doomed in that respect, but let’s not go there.

I don’t swill as much beer as I did when we lived in Vienna either,  so that probably makes a bit of a difference.  Beer’s too damned expensive in this country.  There,  I said it.

 

Oh,  and here’s another part of the non-existent “weight loss program”.   I get to move stuff.  Oh joy.

 

Since the kids have moved out,  I’ve been wanting to get back to having some semblance of an office,  or something.  Some place besides the dining room table,  let’s just say?

I’ll let the pictures talk.

 

Naturally it didn’t occur to me to start taking pictures until I had already skipped a step.  Oh well.

Cr*p.  Not gonna fit through that door…

So,  off comes the door.  That frame is another story…

This is when gravity is your friend.  And no,  I didn’t just set it at the top of the stairs and give it the heave.

Never hurts to have a couple carpet samples hanging around either.  Always wondered what I’d do with those.

 

Don’t want to forget that little shelf that slides out over the bank of three drawers.  Goes in between the top of the desk and the frame.

 

And there we go.  Bob’s yer Uncle.  Or something.

 

The bloody desktop (top of the desk,  not computer desktop) is just about as heavy as the frame, so IF you have a couple really strong fellers willing to lift the thing, then fine.  But leaving the top attached makes it even that much more difficult to get it through certain doorways.

I can see some of the scrapes from when just such a thing was attempted.  It went out on loan when we were first away, to a nephew and his wife,  and I had secretly hoped they would just keep it, but it came back.  It may yet find a new home,  but for now it stays.

It’s a desk.  It’s fine.  Whatever.

 

That’s not where it’s going to end up,  but Daughter Number Two still hasn’t come to collect her IMac,  which is sitting on the opposite side of the room,  just outside of the frame there.  I tried using that thing,  and it confused the hell outta me.  I guess I’m just “old school”.

One of these days I suppose,  we might break down and throw a PC in that room,  but the laptop is still hanging in.   Doing those back-ups!  Never know when it might just up and die.

 

Not sure what’s on the agenda for today,  but there’s probably something that needs moving.  Or scraping.  Or patching.  

Yay me.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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