I’m leaning towards tendonitis. Which is a weird thing to get in your left shoulder my physio off-handedly remarks… because you’re right handed she clarifies. I think about it for a while… ‘I used to be a boxer I threw way more jabs than anything else’. ‘That could be it… and your efforts to paint have exacerbated things’.
Hurting yourself painting is so lame I muse.
I also got my first Pfizer shot yesterday. So my arm is really smarting today. I would have been near the front of the queue for my dead-baby cells and Microsoft chip… but it has only recently become available for my age group. And then of course I got COVID… so I had to wait a month before I got shot up with more of the good stuff.
Yeah I’m a sheeple. Or whatever other mean term is trending for what I am now.
My basement bunker is coming along though. I’ve installed my first set of racks… welded together with 50x50x6 Angle iron (I have no idea what that is in inches… like 2” by 1/4” thick maybe?). In any event, it was… damn heavy… and then 3/4” shutter-board shelves. (again all things that didn’t do my shoulder any good)
Our homemade ‘fire engine’ is getting stored down here now. Its basically a pump welded to a frame with wheels. We live in a fire-danger zone, especially during our long dry summers when the Fynbos is a power keg of possibility. In any event, chuck the intake hose into the pool or water cistern and you can, theoretically at least, have a fighting chance. I’d prefer not to have to use it in real life… a couple of years ago we sat on the deck on new years day watching the helicopters flying over our house water bombing a blaze on the mountain behind us. Some motherfucker had shot up a parachute flare (to celebrate New Years) and set the whole mountain on fire. Got to within a couple hundred meters of us, the homes higher up the mountain had loaded up their cars with valuables and mementos already. In any event, since then we’ve taken a more Boy-scout approach to living here.
In other news I managed to snap a quick pic of the mongooses living in our garden.
There is one in one of boxes and one on the wall (in case its not immediately clear). Yeah… those grey, furry things.
This is my new vegetable garden. Not much happening yet. But its winter and then house is in shade until at least 10am. So direct sunlight, at the moment, is quite fleeting. Still, what I’ve got seems to be doing okay. I’ll fill up all the planters I’ve got before taking a stab at raised beds… I’m weary of the Franklins and Guinea Fowl just obliterating anything I try grow on the ground… and then the tortoises and baboons helping themselves to whatever is left. This might be an exercise in futility, we’ll see how it goes.
I’ve been hearing the baboons a lot lately. There is obviously a troop* moving through our area at the moment. They’ve been waking me up at odd hours… barking… or maybe its more akin to screaming… at each other. It echoes against the mountain… the other evening, a heavy mist had come rolling off the ocean… and you could hear them going at it. Very eerie, horror movie-esque. The German Shepherd did not like it at all. Ha.
* I know the proper collective noun is a congress… but that just feels odd to me.
Anyways, this weekend I’m moving stuff from the basement workshop into the storage racks. That way we can start on our new office project, in so far as we want to turn the basement into an office, gym and music room. I’ve moved most of what I want to keep upstairs and paired down the (larger) machinery to a Drill press and Compound Mitre Saw. I’ve shipped off my Band-saw (something I might actually miss, but just don’t have the space for in my new minimalist set up), Table-saw, and Lathe to my father-in-law. Then my brother in law has taken some of my other stuff… belt sander, dust extractors etc… since he’s opening a branch in Cape Town. He has a bespoke carpentry business, so stuff that will be useful to him.
If I want to make a mess… I must just do it outside now… with hand tools. Also, to be completely honest I don’t have the insane drive that my old man did. I don’t mind hiring a contractor to do something that is beyond me. Words that would make my dad roll around in his… well… box. This notion is pure anathema to my forebear. Ha ha.
Anyways, stuff to do. Life detritus to relocate and arrange in an orderly fashion. So we can… accumulate more things in the void we have created. Can’t wait.