7.30 am and sweat is dripping, not because I am slaving away, no merely being outside and breathing. Another 10 days of triple digits in the making, quite impressive. So to get out of the heat a quicky note.
Glad to be going to work tonight. I open the door of the hospital and I know I will be in a different universe. For one thing it pays to be there, as opposed to here, and it is coolish as an extra bonus. I will have showered and shaved, my hair washed and be at the very least semi presentable. I will operate sharp tools and equipment that works, as opposed to the blunt brute force tools around here. Picked up some potting mix in St. L yesterday, quite the adventure. Pablo's job had taken him to a middleschool (which only took an hour to find again) where he had cleaned out the horticulture departments' greenhouse. It had all kinds of bags of potting mix, expensive stuff. Took the van to St.L. , it shifts like a garbage truck, it sputters and idles poorly due to bad gas but it made it, at least to Paab's front door, where it didn't want to start again. But a little whack on the battery terminals and whoppa. Kayla, Paab and I drove to the school but of course the dumpster was behind a 14 foot fence, and it was locked with a big chain and padlock. You could roll under the fence, but the bales wouldn't fit. Eventually we went to Home Depot and rented a ladder. ( Kayla vetoed the bolt cutter option, which was my fave.). Paab got the bales from the dumpster, I balanced them on my shoulder, on the ladder and dropped them over the fence, trying not to break them and not hit Kayla. Professional dumpster diving. Had the van full and then realized the ladder had to fit in yet. Ripped some bags shoving it in, and now I could use the van as a miniature greenhouse. The trip home was uneventful, except that little snag where the van didn't want to shift out of first gear. Enough lolly gagging, going back to getting the electric on the mobile coups. Coups are in place, getting ready to get ready to go to Colorado on Tuesday. It is a frosty 85 degrees there.
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AuthorPieter Los, born in Scotland, raised in the Netherlands, lost in the USA. . Archives
May 2015
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