That long and winding road
This afternoon, with the thermometer edging into double-digit territory, I realized that this might be the last hurrah before winter. Not much time remaining for important tasks, such as burying about 25 meters of coaxial cable. Best to get on task. The shovel made it easy to cut a slit trench, albeit somewhat “off” from the ideal of a straight line (I blame the slight curve in the blade). Down on my knees to get my fingers dirty, pushing the wire down and under. Not something cosmetically driven, this job. More an effort to prevent the local fauna acquiring a taste for black poly.
The delivery truck, bringing the first part of my tool kit from a shop in Northern Ireland, required a pause. It shocks me that courier companies charge such exorbitant fees for “transactions” on behalf of the Customs bureau. Seriously: $15 to collect $13! Wrong on so many levels.
At sunset, son #3 and I set off for the city, to find THE winter coat. Which we did, without visiting more than one store. I scored a pair of fat woolen socks, in that “just in case” move that assures my toes some protection once I start wandering around in the snow. And, faced with the shuttered door at the bike dealer, I went to the only other shop in the area, apt to carry tiny metric bolts. I think the clerk was too busy; he simply let me scrounge for what I wanted and leave without a single penny exchanged.
The drive home could have used some moonlight. There are few roads (that I’ve been on) darker than the north side road at night. Narrow, winding, weaving. Easy to overdrive. Fun for the first fifteen minutes, and a drag on the spirit after that. However, part of the charm of living in the country is that the road from here to there is less travelled: we didn’t encounter a single other car on the road.
