When I sally forth to seek my prey
I help myself in a royal way.
I sink a few more ships, it’s true,
Than a well-bred monarch ought to do;
But many a king on a first-class throne,
If he wants to call his crown his own,
Must manage somehow to get through
More dirty work than ever I do,
For I am a Pirate King!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King!
Gad, what a beautiful day. In fact, it’s been a beautiful week and the (lying, often as not) forecast says it’s gonna go right on being beautiful. The temperature was up in the high forties by mid-morning, and I vowed that today I’d get my exercise finishing that trench project that’s been hanging over my head for (mumble mumble).
But I needed some tunes to keep me company, and that was an issue. I found my landlord’s old boombox in the barn, but alas no power cord. Then I remembered my old CD player/alarm clock that hasn’t been plugged in since before I moved here. I ran an extension cord around to the side of the barn, plugged in the player, and...it didn’t work. Drat!
Actually some poking and prodding showed it worked just fine, except the track stuck a little sometimes. But the neato electric door wouldn’t open any more. That’s what I get for buying my electronics from Target, I guess. Anyway, perusing the CD wallet I hardly ever use any more, I decided such a glorious day required something upbeat yet weird so out came the Pirates of Penzance, a long-ago gift from my daughter. By the second time through I was singing along. And I can now (at last) report to my landlady that yes, I have not merely finished that damned trench, but I have really quite sincerely finished it. It is a thing of beauty, its sides straighter than those of the barn and its width and depth more than required. I’ll hate myself when it’s time to fill it back in, but I couldn’t leave till the show was over.
Afterward, as a reward for being good and letting me work (and because I was too pooped to take them for a proper walk) I loaded the dogs up and gave them a Jeep ride all the way down the wash to where it’s fenced off. Now I’m sitting down to fried Spam on fresh, homemade bread. Wanna watch a dog drool all over himself? Slowly slice Spam six inches from his nose.
Yup. Good day.
3 comments:
Sounds like near perfect day. High forties weather? A distant memory, today it was -24 with a wind chill factor of -37. Ten minute frost bite ETA. Good news was it was a dry cold....
This post reminds me of something resistmuch has told me. "All good work is self-revelation." (I may have added the "good" there, but no matter. I also forget who he was quoting.
Your day sounds refreshing, except for the spam. Not a fan. The only time it's ever tasted good to me was when we ate it fried, for breakfast, on day 4 of the Bowron Circuit. I think it was the lusciousness of the blueberry pancakes that made the spam slide down better, but I digress.
Thank you for sharing your lovely day!
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