Halfway to having a sun shelter
Either you have it or you don’t. That’s the “divine right of kings” thing that keeps a certain group of kissing cousins richer than Croesus. And if you had it and then you didn’t, then you pull a Sarah. That’s the trick where you offer a meeting with the titled one in your marriage, in return for “£500,000”. So help me, you can’t make up this kind of stuff.
Celebrating PacMan made the online world just a little less productive last Friday, according to a firm that measures just how much time the average employee spends “off task”. The estimate is given in person hours, so you can fudge the currency value any way you see fit: 4,800,000, give or take a coffee break or so.
We now have gazebo/sun shelter Mark III. Out on the patio, there’s a huge box full of metal bars and brackets, partially assembled (I got bored when the sun went down). Tomorrow, or the next day, I’ll find some unpaid assistance from the crew that gets their meals around here, and we’ll pitch another tent. After that, a summer of eating outdoors with the bugs on the breeze.
The pool is almost ready for swimming in circles. After one good dose of chemistry, the waters cleared (a miracle! a miracle!). Now I have to vacuum a bit of residue from the bottom, place a strategic ladder and profit. After all, June hasn’t even arrived and we’re in to temperatures that have the dog sitting in front of the fan.
