cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Building and Not Building Not enough work got done over the weekend but it wasn't anything I could do much about. Sunday was a total wash. It rained intermittently all day and I did not dare use corded power tools outdoors. I've got all of the full-size panels up now, so all of the remaining sheathing needs to be cut down to fit the odd-sized gaps. Even aside from the electrical shock aspect of it, it's just a stupid idea to be way up off the ground on a ladder in the rain. Too easy to slip off and break your neck. I got 3 panels up on Saturday, plus I cut out the sheathing that had gone over the doorway. And a bunch of other little things. Saturday got a little fucked-up on account of having to go into town to get more 6d nails, which turned into a fucking holy grail. I went to 3 different places looking for this staple item. By the time I got home, it was around noon. Then I needed to eat, but the only thing in the house of substance was venison, which meant cooking until 1. Then I decided to get the air compressor figured out and give the air tools a go. It took me about another hour to unpack, break in and learn to use the compressor and tools. So despite having been up and working in some fashion since 8 am, I didn't actually get to begin building until after 2 pm. I worked until close to 7, when it was starting to get dark and my right arm completely crapped out on me. It was all I could do to put my tools away and get the heavy equipment under a rigged tarp. The elbow, wrist and base of my thumb have been giving me throbbing pain since then. Doses of naproxen and soaking in the hottest water I can stand have become a daily part of my life. There's really no question about it anymore. I will need a heavy-duty framing nailer in order to build the new house. Maybe I can finish the workshop without it. But that's all. If I swing a hammer that many more times then I will absolutely end up needing surgery on my right arm. Since I couldn't build on Sunday, I shot. Lars came over and we shot clays until we ran out of shot shells and then we switched to rifles. Each of us had a scoped high-power rifle in need of zeroing. This turned utterly comic in our respective failures. It was fully 2 hours before either of us actually fired a shot. I realized that I hadn't re-installed the spring and magazine follower in my Mauser, meaning that it couldn't shoot at all being a controlled-round-feed action. But I couldn't get the damned floor-plate to open since my right arm did not particularly work well enough to place any pressure on it. Lars had all sorts of problems with his Mosin Nagant, mostly stemming from the fact that he does not properly clean or maintain it and he bought the shittiest, stupidest scope on the market. Full of bells and whistles but fundamentally shitty lenses and poor build quality. Eventually I gave up and went inside to get Trish's Enfield, since that that point I just wanted to shoot a scoped fucking rifle already and put some bullets through a bullseye. The Enfield obliged both of us. I need some more .303 ammo. That thing is just a great rifle. Trish and both kids are back. The baby in particular was very, very happy to see me. He now says 'uh-oh!' every time that he or someone else drops something. Lars is going to start building his own little building. Sort of like mine, but 2 levels, with one side open all the way up to the rafters in order to accommodate a climbing wall. My philosophy of how to build a house has been winning converts. This is the principle that the amount of money you have is irrelevant. All you have to do is get the foundation in. Just start building and get that foundation happening. Because once you do that, you're glued to it. The unfinished house will be staring at you, haunting you. You will have no choice but to finish it or look like a complete idiot. This worked for me with the workshop. I started it last year and then ran out of money and materials. It got to where I could not bear to even look directly at it because it was this monument of half-assed unfinished-ness. This spring I needed to finish it not just because of the practical considerations but because it was the only way I could live with myself. Am I a builder or not a builder? I want to identify as a builder, meaning that I have to build in order to qualify. I have tied the outcome of the project to my whole sense of personal identity. Like gonzo crazy captains of fighting ships in the age of sail who would nail their colors to the mast, in order that they could not be hauled down in a moment of weakness if the battle went poorly. No surrender was possible. Christ, my right arm hurts. I need to go take something for it. I wish I had some vicodin or codine or whatever for it. I really am in a lot of pain. 11:43 - 2008-04-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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