A Rush of Blood To The Finger. . .

The Beast (Pre-Repairs)

Cut my finger scraping old window decals off The Beast today–first cut of the year, I believe. It stung. No fun typing without your middle finger. . .

Mol reminds us that we must take “all [her] bears, pack up all bears!” in an excited voice, and surveys the interior of the Beast like a serene householder. Ci the dog is an absolute nusiance about the van–wont come near it if she can help it. She is too used to the car we were borrowing while the Beast got an engine upgrade, which she would jump into with minimal coaxing. It was small and quiet. The Beast is, well, a beast; diesel engines are just rumblier and louder in general, and add to that all the clanking of the kitchenette and odd creakings of a vehicle that is older than both of us and probably about as heavy as a tank. You get the picture. But it is lovely to have our own Beast back and not worry about somebody else’s car.

Tomorrow there is more cleaning and sorting to be done. Friday is the day we get ready for our big yard sale. Saturday is the day we have our big yard sale. Sunday we scrape ourselves off the pavement and get to work packing up the trailer and outfitting the Beast to carry our bikes and luggage externally. Maybe. I think a day of rest is due.

Off to bed!



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