Stephen
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
The End of The Day
It has been a very, very, busy day. Don't get me wrong, this is good, I'm just tired and my feet hurt. I've some routine maintenance to handle when at home this evening, so my easy chair time is still far into the future. I'd hoped for a quiet night of blogs and book, perhaps a cup of tea - and this might still happen but I'd bet not.
Here's a quick snap I took early this morning of my driveway...see those leaves -
The leaves are task number one. I think of them as nature's art. She, my boss and love of my life, looks upon these dropped remnants as clutter and insist the whole lot be removed. Her taste in art is limited.
I have a several firearms to clean. A pleasant enough task on a weekend. I like to open the garage door for fresh air and stand and swab and wipe with the smell of Hoppe's Number 9 to keep me company but not when my blasted feet hurt. Ah, well.
She called...said I will find pork chops in the refrigerator. You do understand the implication, don't you. Me too. It means, for those of you that voted democrat, "Boy, cook dinner." She calls me, boy.
Oh, now you democrats don't go and get your panties in a wad....you people are so sensitive.
When I first stepped from the house, this morning, the weather was great. High fifties, bit of fog that within minutes turned to light partial clouds from which the sun peaked...nice. Now, cloudy, sixty-six. Maybe, rain. The ole chimney will remain smokeless tonight.
My gaze is drawn to the clock. Tick-tock it counts down my workday. Outside I notice light car traffic, many pedestrians. All march towards home, all with the exception of me for still I'll wait for that last second customer. Shortly I'll flip on the outside lights and slowly begin to wind down my affairs. The shop will need a quick sweep, the coffee pot readied for morning brew, till emptied and balanced, books tallied, and before you know it the alarm will single another day back to the trenches.
See you tomorrow.
Stephen
Here's a quick snap I took early this morning of my driveway...see those leaves -
I have a several firearms to clean. A pleasant enough task on a weekend. I like to open the garage door for fresh air and stand and swab and wipe with the smell of Hoppe's Number 9 to keep me company but not when my blasted feet hurt. Ah, well.
She called...said I will find pork chops in the refrigerator. You do understand the implication, don't you. Me too. It means, for those of you that voted democrat, "Boy, cook dinner." She calls me, boy.
Oh, now you democrats don't go and get your panties in a wad....you people are so sensitive.
When I first stepped from the house, this morning, the weather was great. High fifties, bit of fog that within minutes turned to light partial clouds from which the sun peaked...nice. Now, cloudy, sixty-six. Maybe, rain. The ole chimney will remain smokeless tonight.
See you tomorrow.
Stephen
