Open fires and thick socks and woollen jumpers, that's what I did all day.
We walked to get Pho for lunch. I hear that walking to get your lunch is nearly as healthy as sharpening the spear and killing it yourself. It was a good walk, half an hour there and back, so that must count for something.
Other than that, the only walking I did was out to the wood stack. I collected sticks and didn't chop kindling, I didn't want to upset the nutter, however many doors away he is/lives.
I've written about him before. The guy in the distance of the patchwork of houses that surround my backyard, who yells out when I chop wood. I've never seen him, I don't even know where he lives, but he sounds like a disturbed adult. It started a few years ago with environmental messages and has escalated this year into something more threatening.
"I hope you chop your leg off," was one of the things he has said this year. "I hope your house burns down, was another. Gone are the simple environment caring words he expressed in previous years. I have moved the area where I chop wood to the very back of my place.
This is ridiculous I thought at 8am yesterday morning, as I fossicked about in the cold morning on tip toes trying not to make a noise, collecting sticks.
Why was I awake so early on a Sunday? I don't know, just lucky, I guess.
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