Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read.
That cargo trailer’s being a Communist. Not a Joseph Stalin, more on the order of, say, Fidel Castro. But enough to force me to think up all the ways I’m grateful for having it, repeating them to myself.
That rear door, the first time I fixed it, decided to show me why it had a problem in the first place. Explained to me that the bottom frame member and the bottoms of the two vertical side frame members were rotted badly. Not rotted enough to make them easy to remove once the bottom piece fell off when I opened the door after the first fix. Just rotten enough to justify another fix.
Been working on that, trying to do it without pulling the door off to make it easier because I figure getting it back on will be a bear if I do. Lots of hours and needs to remind myself how grateful I am to have that trailer.
Meanwhile the earth reached the place on its circuit around Old Sol, started throwing rain at me. I’m not one to ever complain about rain, but I do enjoy avoiding working with extension cords and power tools when I’m likely to fry myself.
I’m still thinking I’ll make my self-imposed deadline to get out of here before October takes a bow to the audience, but time’s squeezing up on me, conspiring to make it more a challenge than I figured on.
Old Jules
So Far From Heaven 