Radio Silence and a Roadside Homer
Sorry ’bout the extended period of radio silence there – we are not avoiding spies here in Juniorvania, and be not afraid that I have sawn off my blogging digits. The cause of my virtual muteness has been much more prosaic than any of that; the last two weeks have been crazy busy at work and around the ol’ homestead. The charity auction Spouse and I were organizing went well, and 36 hours later we did the 36km bicycle ride that is associated with the event. Later that afternoon, we began a five day home improvement blitz with the help of both Spouse’s and my parents, focussing our efforts for the time being in the back 40. Pictures, of the “before and after” variety, have been taken and will be posted at a future date.
Meanwhile, things couldn’t have been busier at work last week; we had spent a couple of days away from the office focussing on our charity event, and the messages, emails and letters kept on piling up while we were gone. So the week before last was a bit of a scramble trying to catch up.
It was busy, and last Saturday we were at Wit’s End. That’s not just the way we felt, it’s also the name of the eventing venue that we visited for an FEI World Cup event last weekend (I took a bunch of pictures and will post some later this week). I spent last Sunday writing all day on a work-related project, and during the week, I was still finding it hard to get caught up at work. Every night when we got home, I would stare at the computer for a few minutes, then go pass out on the couch; I just didn’t have it in me to spend more time trying to make sentences at the keyboard. There have, of course, also been a number of debates to watch in the evening over the last week/week and a half.
I had hoped to spend a little more time posting about all of this frenzied activity today, but a portion of Sunday’s unallocated free time had to be dedicated instead to a home repair project. It seems that on Friday night, the People’s Mailbox was the chosen venue for “Mailbox Baseball”. The shiftless rural ne’er-do-well who was in the batter’s box evidently walloped a monster homer, because we couldn’t even find the thing anywhere along the road when the search party was dispatched earlier today for the express purpose of retrieving our battered postal receptacle. End result: an unscheduled trip to Lowe’s, an unbudgeted expenditure from the capital improvement fund ($34.99 for the extra large model and about 12 bucks worth of adhesive number decals to denote the Juniorvanian addressing co-ordinates on each side), and an hour-and-a-half worth of sawing (wood for the base), screwing the thing on to the roadside post, and cleaning up after myself.
I am unimpressed by the athletic prowess of the brainless prats who felt the need to trash my property. All I can say is this: it’s a good thing Spouse and I remembered to collect the mail from the box on Friday evening when we arrived home from work, because there was (quite unexpectedly) a sizable government refund cheque sitting inside the mailbox. Had we forgotten to get the mail that night (we’ve done that before), our mailbox and our happy little windfall would have been golfed away to God knows where, and we would have been none the wiser about the missing revenue.
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