The last few months have been a roller coaster of highs and lows, twists and turns that have kept me off balance, busy, exhausted, shell shocked and downright knackered.
I had an operation on my shoulder which, as it turns out, was not as successful as first thought. I had a wondrous few pain free weeks of being able to enjoy normal movement. You know the sort of thing, pulling a t-shirt over my head, picking up a mug of tea, the things we all take for granted until we can't do them, and then slowly it began to return. I'd reach out and find my cursed arm would only go so far without making me scream. Damn! I have to admit I probably overdid it right at the start, the absolute joy of being able to move without yelling out in pain ran away with me a bit and I did develop a habit of flapping my arms about like a demented duck just because I could....
|Hand carved staff|
Everything was ticking along quite nicely until my wife decided to buy a wardrobe. Well, OK, we decided to buy a wardrobe but if I say it was all her idea I've got someone to blame for the destruction of my workroom. Seriously, its absolutely devastated. How can one wardrobe do so much damage? I think I've mentioned before that my work room is in fact our small, spare bedroom, so it doesn't really take much for it to look in a state, but I keep it pretty much alright. It might look chaotic to some eyes but its my chaos, and I know where everything is. Enter shabby 1960's wardrobe.
The wardrobe from hell, Beelzebub's closet.
We rarely buy furniture new, preferring the character of second hand, older items. Character! This hadn't got character, it had a personality defect, psychotic tendencies in fact! And it was out to get me. You think I'm joking don't you? Trust me, I'm not. What should have been a simple act of stripping it down and re-staining became well... have you ever watched groundhog day? I stripped that thing again, and again and again. And it still doesn't look right, but its in the bedroom so I'm only likely to see it when I'm half asleep and its dark. You wouldn't believe how close I came to taking it outside and setting fire to it! It's killed my trusty belt sander and covered my room in an inch of dust, its drunk almost every drop of stain I owned, broken blades and screwdrivers and robbed me of my sanity.
Oh, no wait. My sanity ran for the hills years ago.
My work room is currently closed for renovation which my shoulder is very grateful for. Maybe this is the Lady's way of saying 'slow down', or maybe its just her way of saying 'DON'T BUY ANOTHER BLOODY WARDROBE!'. I can take a hint. The next time my lovely witch says 'that'd look lovely once you've stripped it down' I'm going to say DO IT YOUR BLOODY SELF!
I can hear you laughing. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'll do it all over again next time she asks. Oh really? Will I?
Oh alright then.
But only because I love her.
And because sometimes, even after all these years, she can still surprise me.
Dillon's time in this world was all to brief but his spirit, and his memory, live on.