Scraps

This picture really struck me as appropriate tonight. See, my mail program, Thunderbird, is acting really pissy and I'm at a loss as to why. I really suspect that for some reason the codes that make Thunderbird run do not play well with the codes that propel my ISP. I have no solid evidence to make my case. It's just that every time my ISP does an update, Thunderbird does something flaky. And I'm left feeling as though I'm dealing with the above setup.

Maybe it's just the weather. Which didn't turn out -- at least in this specific area -- to be anything like as bad as predicted. The wind didn't even start up until around 4 in the aye em and never got really heavy-duty over the course of the day. The rain finally started around 1:00 this afternoon and, at times, pelted down like it meant bidness.

There was one small leak. The skylight in the middle of the big hall area has never allowed itself to be well and truly sealed, much to the despair and disgust of my poor landlord. Billy stopped by today to see how his roof patching was holding up. I praised the job he did but he was terribly frustrated about the single glitch. Took it personally, he did.

One of the things he did downstairs today was to replace the burned out fluorescent lights in the laundry area. I was delighted because I'd been relying on the rather awkward use of a small flashlight when doing laundry. Couldn't even read the dials without it and the light fixtures were too far up in the high ceilings for me to do anything about them.

But the lights weren't all he took care of today. At one point I kept hearing strange noises down below. What on earth was he doing so earnestly down there? Finally, I couldn't stand it any more so I went truckin' down the stairs and popped through the door into the big back room. When he looked up, I said, "I think I'm becoming a nosy old lady but I had to come down and see what it was you were doing."

Then I did a double-take. There are several groups of odd lengths of scrap lumber, all different sizes, that have been leaning against a wall here and a wall there. Just sort of gathered together out of the way, patiently waiting for someone to figure out how they might be of use. Bill was vacuuming the scraps, piece by piece, with his handy-dandy, super-duper shop vac!

That might be carrying neatness too far.

But maybe he was just relieving his frustration at not being able to fix the skylight in the nasty weather. And he does love playing with his toys. He waved the vacuum hose around as he told me about the different things he wanted to do with the building and how he had to wait for one project until he could raise the money for a different project that would have to be completed first and, "What was I thinking?" he asked me. "Why did I think I could save an old building?"

"Ah, darlin'," I said. "Nowhere does it say you have to be thinking all the time. Where would be the fun in that?"

He'll manage it. It's just going to take more time and money than he'd originally thought. Not an uncommon occurrence, I'm afraid. But he's young and has the imagination and energy to follow through. He'll do fine.

And his scrap lumber will be in pristine condition if he ever figures out what to do with it.