A door rehung
We rehung the last door. The one that was in a too large opening, with the bias in the wrong location. No big deal, for two people; I would have hated the job as a solo effort. Symbolic, really. My year of living with son #3 as the assistant for odd jobs comes to an end in the morning. Travel time, and the start of the next chapter. We put that in focus by watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
Actually, I had to do a number of things in preparation, even if I’m staying home in the anchor spot. The car is much cleaner, now. Windows included. Haven’t done anything like that in a long time. I also started the load out, and we came close to forgetting the most important part of an air mattress (the plug). Not much fun to pick your spot on a new floor and find that things are really solid, as in solidly hard.
I’ve been shown what plants will require my intervention over the next few days. Something about watering, and transplanting, and fertilizing, and keeping things alive. Confusing, when condensed into a two minute sermon. I’ll muddle through, based on prior experience. Incidentally, we had a risk of frost, last evening, but the berry plants seem to have escaped. I think. I’m relying on the record furnished by a faulty temperature sensor, so “we’ll see, won’t we” may remain as my epitaph.
The lawn guy came by and spread some granular chemistry on the lawn. I dearly wish I could have borrowed his rig for a round of seeding on the east edge. Seems to be an efficient way of doing a tedious job.
