With the deadline looming, we attempt to speed up the pace. The amble becomes a brisk trot only to find out you're out of breath. Paint dries, epoxy sets, deliveries arrive at their own set pace. Meanwhilst, my ribs hurt from laying in the cabin in an awkward position trying to drill some holes with little clearance, Budge's arm hurts from hauling things around. The steps get higher each time I go up them.
I finally purchased the last plumbing bits. Now, those of you whut knows the intricasies of plumbing can feel my pain. The plumbing department of large hardware big box stores are thinly populated by lost wandering souls delving into the sea of small boxes containing, mainly misplaced items. This is how the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years; they were in the plumbing department. There is no Moses to guide you through this desolate arid environment in search of water. He's on break. It seems no easy solution exists that will bring relief to your dessicated boat existence. So you amble through the perils of pvc, cpvc, pex, elbows, tees, barbs, and whatever else you can find, constructing some sort of steampunk assemblage to achieve the simple task of transporting water from there to there.
I am quite susceptible to poison ivy. I have stayed away from it here, so God sent fire ants instead, lest I be too self congratulatory of my good fortune. I stuck my hand in another hill this week.......... the ocean will be better (HAH: Iricongi!) .