Sometimes, Productive in Another Entry ;-)

I remember how my dad, after he retired would always bitch about how busy he was and he and my mom had things to do. MOM did things. Dad might start something, then take a nap and then have a drink or 2, and…oh well. BUT HE WAS BUSY! I think he just wanted to be left alone. I know how that goes.

I have a bunch of little projects to do. I added one a few days ago when I found my router was very old and slow. I splurged on a router/modem combo. Nice big sci-fi spaceship-looking thing. I calmly got it up, running and registered with Xfinity AND went to a faster speed plan. I was not sure if the plan had kicked in until half an hour later I realized pages were not just loading but popping. FAST. I got the lower tier super fast and there were 3 more faster. Dayammm…

A few weeks ago I researched and then ordered 2 metal houseplant stands. I got them Friday and put them off realized dude, y’gotta find what space you need for the shelves. Finally did and assembled both without screaming and yelling. I am making progress in life. I zip-tied them together and will fill a window with plants on Monday.

Now I need to get the courage to make a table for my small clothes dryer. I will be handling/using precious wood from my old factory. I was the wood inspector and knew what scrap wood was good for home projects. Every time I touch the wood from that factory I feel a flood of memory come back and try to push it away. I truly enjoyed inspecting wood. There was a bit of machismo to it. Heavy hard sometimes bloody work. Sometimes memory kicks out a bit of sawdust for me to smell in my mind. When my father was in the hospice dying years ago, I brought him an envelope of sawdust and told him it was “magic dust”. HE had been a professor of Forestry. Wood was his life. Even though he hated me I wish that dust could have saved his life. 88 was a long life. I think that is a good example of love. When someone hated and reviled you in their last years and we can find it in ourselves to forgive them, smile about their good and love them.

I understand why my dad put off doing so many little projects. He savored being busy doing SOMETHING since he had no hobbies. He could only make so many things in his basement wood shop. When something came along to do, like me, he would think on it a lot. But I don’t take booze breaks. I am just blatantly lazy about it. How long can I take to make that table? Seriously, I have to be very mindful about using a table saw and drills. Cut something and hope I still have enough fingers to call for help. THERE’s a memory from work! Get cut while working off in some isolated place in the shop or warehouse and depending on where injured, run, stumble and even yell for people to get out of the way. Other times just look at the blood flowing and treat it like a body leak. Ok I got a hole here to plug up. Last big cut I got was when I lost control of a piece of metal and it fell onto my lower right leg and gashed me good. I was oozing blood. I think I looked hilarious trying to put pressure on the cut and run at the same time! Fortunately there was a man there that had been a medic in the army. He looked at it and said “no major stuff cut. You be ok”. Wrapped it up and went back to work! Seemed better to do than looking at the damn thing at home. I got so many scars on me I can’t find that one now. I never feared a very bad thing happening if I got cut because I could always find someone to help plug the leak or get me to the ER.

Yeah I truly wandered on this post. Old man and bloody memory lane
;-)