The trip to New Hampshire on Saturday became a trip to Maine. We walked around the small coastal town of Ogunquit, Joy and Jefferson charmed all onlookers, we walked on the beach in 45-degree high winds, and turned around and went home. Charlie and Carie are well and are finding the same things we did with Behr paint from Home Depot: good coverage requires so many coats that the price disparity with higher-grade paints is effectively erased.
Yesterday was a bit of a work day. I replaced a few downspout sections, including one by our three-season porch that proved to have about two feet of compost matter in it. The worst part is that it was feeding into a hole in the driveway next to the house that might have been a dry well, only it was completely full. Which of course means it’s going to be a pain to excavate—especially since the entire thing is surrounded by the asphalt of the driveway. Incidentally, there’s nothing better than a reciprocating saw for cutting aluminum gutters, though the noise in an enclosed space like my workshop is akin to a motorcycle engine going inside one’s skull.
I also continued the Sisyphean task of leaf pickup. Our oak trees won’t drop their leaves for quite a while longer, so I’m just removing everyone else’s debris right now and it’s still taking hours each time.
Last night we tried having a fire in our fireplace for the first time. Alas, it burned itself out before our logs really got going. I’ll have to bring in some more kindling and try again tonight.
Now for the week, and trying to type keeping my fingers crossed for the Sox.