I’m a 63-year-old hermit. 63 isn’t that old, it’s the new 40, I’m told. But I’ve got a lot of collision damage, and I don’t generally hop out of bed full of vim, vigor and vitality. Most mornings it’s more like slowly shaking the remaining parts of the skeleton into place while administering strong doses of medicinal coffee.
So! When I wake up and stretch, and rather than grabbing a pillow and rolling right back over the first question on my mind is “Okay, what’s the first thing?” I know it might be a good day.
I was thinking specifically about the addition. Yesterday I was kind of lazy and didn’t finish the tasks I’d set for myself, but this morning I’d really like to work on the floor. I have a plan.
But that’s not the first thing. It’s baking day.
It’s 5am, there’s a hint of light over the eastern ridgetop. Days are definitely getting shorter, but it’s a comfortable mid-sixties inside the Lair. The past several days have been unusually hot and I sure don’t want to run the oven in the afternoon. So bread is the first thing.
Then dog and chickens. Then the floor. Onward!
I remember 63 . . . I think . . .
🙂 I hope to remember it for a long time.
I bake in the evening when it is hot. That way, the place cools off nicely overnight with all the windows open.
Ditto Mama Liberty. Except now, when opening the windows at night means letting in the smoke, which is still at unhealthy levels here. I am living a bread-free life for a while. Good for me. I decided that I would NOT turn on a burner or oven if I can avoid it until we are out of the 90+ days and the smoke has dissipated a bit. But they tell us this may be with us until snow.
Meanwhile, Joel, I am totally impressed with your progress. You will have a very cozy bedroom this winter. Good for you. Bravo!