When every day is Saturday
So confusing. Q took Jian out of the main chair, and placed Shad in there. Now, he’s gone, and Tom will be the voice from my car radio. I’m not good at that sort of musical chairs, on a program that isn’t musical.
Moving right along. At full speed. I’ve been booked into restaurant chairs for two meals tomorrow. Trying to make the best pick from a menu, while balancing hunger pangs and a wallet; tough row to hoe. As long as I get a good seat, I’ll muddle through.
What day is this? Does it really matter? With my “every day is Saturday” schedule, the only stress is whether or not a given business is open after the sun rises. Even the mail delivery, as amusing as it can be what with an impending strike action, won’t slow me down.
Tonight is recycling night, and for the first time I required a wheelbarrow to get the pile of bags out to the road edge. Sure, I could have made simple trips, but the barrow was more effective. We’ve got our “finger” on this whole garbage separation deal, and now the once-a-month schedule doesn’t even come up as an issue (we have a garage, after all). Seriously, the diversion of paper, plastic and glass from what would have been landfill is very positive. Even if we don’t see the “use again” results, the smell of burning garbage is a thing of the past.
Learning about the engineering issues with “garden trains”. Nothing to do with driving them; this is the nuts and bolts bit, where the wheel spacing is extremely important. Too little or too much and nothing rolls.
