No production today, and an hour to kill. Don't feel much like writing, other than to say I am not yet feeling the guilt of squandering good-weather days indoors. The only thing stopping me from not spending every waking minute at work (other than the fact that I have to be here for OT) is lack of conciousness. I've got the option open for more of said financial benefit, but I just can't get up that early on a Saturday. Lazy? Dunno. Tired? Definitely. Some things money can't buy.
How tired is tired? Not that tired. I miss those days of giving 100% well into the middle of the night on some project, propelled along by internal drive until I knew well enough to step away from the workbench. There's a sweet satisfaction to that mental wear-out. Similar to that satisfaction of toil on a hot roof in the sun. The principal difference I can find is that over time, one wears out your back and knees while the other improves by knowledge and determination.
Anyway.
Rushed home from work last night, stopped at Fareway for exceptional deals, hung out at the parents for a few to pick up paint and see the grandparents that made it to town. Then to the lodge for a few hours of toil. Painting. Staining. Grinding. And engine measurements with my new micrometer set. Next thing I knew it was dark out and I hadn't been to the apartment yet. To be honest, the temptation of moving in NOW grows by the day. I burn at least an hour each day between work, the apartment and the lodge just driving the Blazer.
Home, with just a few minutes to wind down before conking out for the night.
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