Friday night: pay bills, sort stuff, run laundry, all the routine kark that keeps the house moving. My Son went to the Magic session down at Black Diamond Games and had a pretty good evening, which is a relief, because I worry about him being stuck in a Mason jar all summer long. And I got to chat for a few minutes with My Daughter on her BIRTHDAY!
Saturday: Off to the gym, off to breakfast with My Wife and My Son. So far so good. Then off to a storage facility in Richmond, where we help the family of a guild member clean out decades of accumulated craft materials. It all comes back to our house for sorting. Thank Ghod we didn't bring back all the rock-tumbling stuff. My Wife and her spinning friend have hours of fun going through the boxes, finding stuff worth saving and throwing out stuff that is ugly, nasty, mildewed, soaked in rat piss, etc. When all's said and done around 8 PM, some little old ladies somewhere are going to get ten boxes of yarn and fabric, the Guild has a large moving box full of fleece to play with, and I have even less space left in the garage. The process has saved hundreds of dollars and a lot of useful material, but a long boring day if you're not a wooltwister. But My Wife is happy about it, so net plus.
For the last month, one of the webcomics' forum members has been making a guest appearance, and has been getting the full Chuck Jones treatment, starting with getting stepped on by a giant robot, and going downhill. Everyone else on the forum has been coming up with 'what shall we do to him next?' ideas, and some of them have been going 'beyond the beyondst', as the Irish say. In a burst of enthusiasm that I should have known better than to follow, I GIMPed up a picture of one of the suggestions. It was apparently the canonical Last Straw, because he called an end to the whole thing and asked that the picture be removed. The moderator removed it from the forum, I removed the file from storage and deleted it, along with all the working files of creating it. I don't do this stuff to piss people off, I do it to be funny, but 'funny' has a way of sometimes twisting loose and biting me on the ass. Something else to brood on, like I needed more material.
The scabbard for the Guild sword was almost ruined by a bad coat of stain. I was able to sand off the nasty crap and re-do it. It's not as good as I had hoped, but it's better than I had feared. A peace-strap and some way to display it, and it'll be done. Some dickweed, possibly plural, touched the sword blade barehanded and let the blade rust. I've spent a half-hour steelwooling it, and I've removed most of the corrosion, but there's some pitting I just can't get rid of. It wasn't me, and it wasn't my fault, but I HATE seeing a good weapon damaged by people who know better.
Brian S is almost finished with his Eagle project, which is a set of shelves and toyboxes for his church. Every time I work on one of these projects, I am grateful that my dad was a pain in the ass who required us to help with stuff around the house. Six people on the painting, four of them have never heard of putting a paint object up on blocks so it won't stick to the dropcloth, never knew you follow the grain, had never considered whether you start painting at the top or the bottom, etc. Thanks, Dad, it was a lot of boring work we did for you, but I haz handyman skillz. But one more Eagle project close to completion. Eight projects in the troop in about 15 months, and I've worked on all but two of them. Not bad. Something unreservedly positive to finish off.
My Windows counterpart, Jerry K (insert beeping noise here) goes in for surgery tomorrow to repair a detached retina. The eye doc says two weeks recovery, and I just know he's going to try to be back at work next Monday. "I heal quickly", he says. Not from eye surgery you don't, bucko, but what do you do?
EDIT: My Wife made root beer floats for dinner. Life can't be that bad if someone notices and tries to help.