“Vengeance is mine!” saith the reloader

This is Serenity, the very first inhabited structure on Landlady’s property. It long predates me. In early 2009 Landlady, sick of looking at it, requested that I make it go away. She was non-specific as to how or where. Seemed to me it might still have some use, so I hauled it off to a place out of her sight and in the fullness of time it became my reloading shack.

It is, of course, a very quiet dry enclosed space unvisited by humans for weeks at a time. So it is, of course, infested with packrats. I mean really disgustingly infested. I began plotting jihad recently when somebody started pissing on my loading gear, but to actually carry out the campaign would mean withdrawing protection from the Jeep and the Lair’s environs. I only have three traps at present.

Yesterday I found somebody had started stealing my .44 brass from off the counter. Yesterday I paved the place with every trap I have.

Rather to my disappointment I only got one kill last night…
Nice big fat one, though. Both logic and direct experience tell me there’s more. Hell, I saw a smaller one in there just yesterday. This one also demonstrated the wisdom of using wire tethers rather than string. First time that ever happened.

Speaking of reloading supplies, guess who came through for old Uncle Joel!
I asked Ian for a box of those rather expensive cast bullets I like, and he brought me two boxes! I’m set for a while.

Also got a care package from a generous reader containing three brand-new gel socks, one of which I’m wearing at this moment in preparation for what promises to be a busy day. Thank you!