It is Monday March first and I have enough money to pay the water, the gas bill and maybe one other thing. Delinquent personal property tax on the truck, maybe. The kids were over this weekend and nobody yelled at anybody else. Today I've got no work. Today I haven't had a cigarette in four fucking months. I continue to get better, to recover, I can feel it.
Part of the payment for the bookshelf job I finished last week was some stud-sized material my buddy salvaged from his GingerBread Victorian as he restored it. I sorted through the pile out in his garage where I'd set up shop. I pulled the nails, sent the shit through my saw, then my planer and now I've got twelve four foot lengths of shiny heart pine salvaged from a house in Oregon Hill. HaHa Take That Richmond. I'm going outside now to build sawhorses with them because my last set got stolen and I've finally got the material for more. Because the sun is out and because Craigslist Jobs is a fucking nightmare. Because apparently the spirit of the universe thinks this is the season for me to be building more sawhorses and I'm fine with that.
