Wasted motion: I’m good at that

Widow Dressing rubbed her hands together in satisfaction: Hard, brutal work, but she’d done it, and she thought (hoped) (rattled) (sizzled) (prayed) (lit candles) (rinked) that it would work better than the first attempt. And even though it was way late at night and she shouldn’t have been doing it just before bed, the exertion had felt good. She just needed to be sure to leave room for the exercise equipment that also needed to go in there somewhere… although she could put it in the two-carriage carriage house except that it would be 120° (49 C) or higher in there in the summer. Pro’lly not such a good idea, that.

She’d also end-capped her two outdoor spigots and put foam insulators over them to prevent freezing. So all in all, despite the confounded interruptions and essential errands, she felt good about her results. Uh-oh! She suddenly recalled she’d left the blueberries, hardening off to go dormant and stay outside over winter, on the porch, and decided she’d better bring them in.

It was about time she did feel good about getting something visible done. She decided to eat a chocolate peanut-butter holiday tree before going to bed, even though she knew it was stupid, because Celebrate. “Nuggan can just go stuff himself in a raggedy cut tin can and throw himself in a metal crusher,” she said. Out loud. With defiance.

Craft room moved to former office (the shelves are leaning forward on purpose, until I can get hold of a piece of insulation to stick in that stupid wall-mounted pet door).
New office, sans closet doors and with filing cabinet in closet (and shredder). There’s plenty of room, I think, to mount mis-matched shelves for paper on the right side of the closet.
Bookshelf moved into office, easily movable when needed for desk (in box on floor) so the desk can fit into the corner (it’s a big L-shaped thing).

Posted by wordsmith

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