Counting down the hours
There. My sciencae experiment is underway, and although I will wait to draw conclusions, I’m getting what I expected. The freezer requires “juice”. Not a lot. No danger of running out, on the first day, or the second. Sometime later this evening, I will reach my 12 hour mark, and extrapolation based on a (not really drawn) graph will allow me to make some general assumptions. That’s what they taught me in science classes, back in the day.
Earlier this week, I listened to an interview with someone that bought a factory built home and moved it to a preferred location near a small river. Neither of the local bridges were wide enough to allow the hauler to get by, so an alternate route was chosen, over a winding, hilly logging road. That’s not the story here.
I listened to the homeowner, and something clicked. I know who that is. Not first-hand; historically. Someone that began performing, years ago. This is the “come home” home, because being on the road to earn a living isn’t always fun. I get that, and I am happy to hear that the tunes are still part of the lifestyle. No one-hit wonder, here.
Nof much else, on the list of things that happened on a drab day. The kids are absent from my timeline (I think). I didn’t become rich, or famous (although there ae hours to go before bedtime). The usual idiocy from the political class, and generalized warfare might be averted. Might. Life is so uncertain. No shipwrecks locally (there haven’t been any, in over a century, but be prepared is my rule of life).
