Accepting that this summer will not be the same
It might be fun to think that I knew where my big repair plan was going; delusional, but fun. Today, after a number of false leads, I recovered my bookmarks and passwords from Firefox. Now, my workflow should improve, greatly. No more guessing what I might have used as my identity on sites not visited for many months. Do I have an improved plan, going forward? Maybe.
This was another day of random banging in the basement. While she rode the big green machine around, outside, our carpenter with a highly unusual schedule returned to continue hanging wallboard in strategic locations. Now, I have complete faith in his ability to turn this into a wonderful new living space (or play space). It’s just that I concentrate less well when I don’t know about the next loud sound.
I’m keeping a keen eye on the predicted storm activity. We’re getting off, too easily. There has to be a moment of wind and rain before the snows begin. It’s the law (of nature, in a time of climate change). On social media, I can almost feel the tears from some of our seasonal neighbours, as they realize that getting up to the Island will be unlikely, this year. It’s hard to accept (I know; I’ve had those moments). Who would have foreseen a summer without access to the beach, especially when you have a solid cottage to spend the nights in, with a warm fire and some tunes. I don’t plan on any long roadtrips, this time around. Even the mechanic at the corner told us not to fret about the elapsed inspection decal, since we wouldn’t be anywhere that mattered. I mean, from here to his shop is a solid two minutes of road time. Have to be very unlucky to attract the attention of the highway patrol.
