The long and the short of it…. As it turns out, the Panthers lost. Further grim news was that I'd be working a full 8 hours Saturday, starting at 6AM. The Saturday part I can deal with, but the implications of such news would drive a saner person to bed down early Friday night, completely deflating the self-set expectation of blowing off a little steam after a long week of OT. Suffering through the "saner" approach once already, I decided first to work on the lodge after leaving work, then, once home, discovered half a dozen phone calls on my cell about catching the game downtown at 8:30. Well, fine then. It was a pretty decent time though there's only so much Grainbelt I could take and the beer on tap was fairly high caliber for my, shall we say, traditional, palate. Got home in time to catch the last two minutes of the game, then caught a couple hours sleep.
The line ran somewhere between fair and poor the next day and I was pretty whooped by the time I walked out into the open air having dealt with fire-fighting and crappy attitudes. Pointed the blazer towards the parents, caught my second wind, and met Cam and Ben to lend a hand pulling an engine off a stand in the basement. From there, some cold brews, a heater working overtime, and an evening of engine removal and teardown on the '59. Cara stopped out but was none-too impressed with the situation. Meanwhile, we were celebrating our victory of liberating the engine from its bay in record time, without damage to it, or the car. We topped the night off with a sampling of quadraphonic cuts upstairs and a very questionable game of Go Fish. Totally exhausted, I made it back to the apt and collapsed.
The trailing downside of the Saturday-workday is the "lost weekend" feeling. I slept in Sunday as best I could, got myself out of bed to the welcome sight of sunshine, watched Cara go gangbusters cleaning up the porch, and got myself in gear to work on the side deck. A little windy, but you didn't need much of a jacket in the mid-day sun, as long as you kept moving. First though, was a yard cleanup. Took down the snow fences and posts, gathered the scrap wood, tightened down the canvas tarp and moved some steel stock. By "country" standards the yard is just dandy, but the toll of "clutter" is warping my brain. The yard may be my last refuge! We live in a small apartment with Cara's worldly posessions, shared furniture, and my daily things; pretty cramped. Most of my large stuff is packed in the basement not as display but rather an interim 'ready-to-move' basis. Looks like a warehouse in waiting. And then there's the lodge proper, half full of expensive, need-to-keep power tools and materials. Decently arranged, but visually assualting. Everywhere I turn, disorder!
Tackled the side deck while listening to a mix of AM radio and cassettes (huzzah, a player!). Finished up the majority of the planks with the sun threatening to set. Home for a little decompression followed by early bed. Yes, that's right, a week of 4:30 wake-up calls ahead.
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