Adaptive Curmudgeon

Woodpile Report: Backdated Fail

Several weeks ago I wrote up a woodpile report. It had been a bad week with standard blues music luck and excessive general consternation. The post was 666 words of black depression. Who needs that? I decided not to post it.

Here’s a much shorter (but just as accurate) version:


Hot humid weather… tough working conditions… Blah blah blah…

Lined up help. Help bailed. Woe is me.

Plenty of wind-thrown wood. Big mess. Logs on the ground. Some logs bucked up, some not, some split, some not. Man I’m tired.

Crivens! I kicked meself in ma ain heid!

Waily, waily, waily!

Arm injured but not seriously. Blah blah blah…

No wood split or stacked. Blah blah blah…

Beer.

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