Perspectives of a Writer and Musician

Issues related to writing, publishing and playing jazz music: One man's muse.
by Al Stevens

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Location: Florida, United States

Monday, March 16, 2009

Where did the time go?

I had to take a day off from building my rotocaster. Well, it might turn out to be more than a day.

I cut some wood, and it's ready to be drilled and assembled. Here it is.



I moved to the part of my workshop where I do the drilling. At that point I realized that there is barely room to move around in the workshop, the metal shed where I do all the dirty work, sawing, sanding, and so on. The workbench is piled with clutter. I can't find anything.



That shed is also where I store the lawn equipment and a lot of junk. Every cardboard box that the UPS guy ever brought here is in that shed. Every computer monitor and printer that ever stopped working is there. I have stored there a ton of obsolete computer books and software, too.

It's time for spring cleaning.

I spent most of this morning hauling junk out to the curb. This is Florida and it's hot. It's maybe thirty yards to the curb. Some of that junk is heavy. Consequently, I've also spent a lot of time resting.



That's not all of it. Most of it is still in the shed.

Time was a job like this would take maybe a morning. Time was. Where did that time go that was? It was only, what, twenty-five, thirty years ago?

I asked my wife what that wet stuff is on my back, face, and under my arms. She said, "It's sweat. Don't you remember that? Get used to it."

Excuse me, I have to go for a nap now.

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