While My Keyboard Gently Weeps
Or, What I Do Between Novel Projects
I repaired a shed and a door and a stair tread, but mostly the shed.
It came with the century-old house we bought seventeen years ago, and I estimate (based on the type of nails used in its construction) that it might be forty-years old. After the cladding came off that left side, I discovered the sill there was rotten through.
I replaced the sill only to learn no one still made replacements for the tongue-and-groove beveled cladding. I improvised, and I improvised some more on the right side to fill in the rotting frame of a window we no longer needed. (The right sill was fine, BTW.) I repainted and rehung the door, and now I am in the process of repainting the whole thing.
The stair tread was pretty easy, although cleaning the space under the stair unit was not. I needed to replace the tread so I could move our washing machine and dryer (both well broken) out of the basement to make room for the new. Our neighbor’s tenant left their washer and dryer behind, and we’re inheriting them.
I also picked and pitted a lot of cherries. Our bush cherries are bountiful this year. The mulberry tree was particularly fecund, too, and the peaches and apples are looking good.
I nearly forgot! I also fixed up the front porch and started repairing a wooden chair.
I forgot to talk about the door, but that’s OK. It’s just a door on the garage. I stripped the peeling paint off it and repainted it.
I cleaned and reorganized the basement. Painted the floor there, too.
All these chores are necessary, but their real value is as a distraction from the first draft of a novel I’ve left cooling/rising/whatever in the drawer. I like to put some time between the first draft and the first revision. It gives me a chance to forget what I wrote and that I wrote it at all. I can approach the thing with new eyes and WTF attitude.
It’s almost time to reopen the file.
Almost.
Time.