Pooped Parson

For the last few days son J has been visiting and helping us with chores around the house and environs of which my wife deems I am incapable of doing or just too lazy. J is a marvelous builder and has the patience to make things well. So low and behold we have a new front screen door (this door has no screen however, except for the one stored in the basement which will never see the light of day) which looks great and fits and works properly. Plus it is guaranteed for life, just like its predecessor which J hauled away in his truck after it began to sag in an unnatural way.

We also made the huge mistake a few years ago of sticking corkscrew branches in the ground in various places around the property which grow a foot every time you turn your back to them. One of which was too close to the garage. I set forth to fell this monstrosity while J was repairing a falling roof in our old basement. He would pop out of the evil abode every now and then to see whether I had cut off any of my appendages with the chain saw or dropped a large limb upon myself, and would frequently just pull said timbers over with brute strength. We loaded the whole kit and caboodle into his trailer and took it to Marj’s (who with her sisters have adopted Doreen as a sister) to dump on her property to return to nature. Now there’s a friend, one who literally takes your crap from you happily.

It’s good to have family to help in such projects one likes to put off indefinitely. J did all the work but somehow I am completely exhausted and barely able to move. Spectator sports wear you out. It’s a good think I rarely watch football, baseball (is that a sport?), basketball, etc. or I’d be exhausted all the time. I do watch golf but somehow that just seems pretty and relaxing; perhaps a bias.

Anyway thanks J, you made your mother and me very happy.