We Wisconsinites were recently sent a blast of unseasonably warm weather to start out month number eleven.
For the first time in my life, I was kayaking on the sixth of November. Granted, any day I paddled around anywhere in 2020 would have been a first. And there were many. I fell in love with those cute little water crafts. But it turned out that the shelves were just as bare of kayaks as they were short on toilet paper this year.
I decided to order one of my own, online.
That was on August the fifteenth.
Let me check on it.
Order in process.
But, the lack of kayaks, toilet tissue and other things on back order are not what this story is about.
This story is about burning wood.
Because this fake weather is not going to hang around much longer.
In order to burn wood, you have to have wood.
Last spring my sweet Sven and I watched our stock pile get smaller and smaller.
You see, if you only take and you do not give, one day you will be S.O.L.
That one day came.
I am not pointing fingers, but, it has always been Sven's job to fill up the wood shed.
He has had a couple of pretty good excuses for not chopping down a tree.
But without going into all the ugly aging details that he has come up with lately, by comparison, a little compression fracture of his fourth lumbar back in February, was just not going to cut it.
He did what any husband with a wife standing in front of him with her hands on her hips would do.
He picked up the phone and ordered two loads of firewood to be delivered.
The logs were very nice.
However they only filled up one side of the shed.
I love winter.
And I love to listen to snaps, crackles and pops while nestled under a blanket with a glass of wine, until all the ice outside my window is melted. This can take months. And without the ambiance why bother pouring a glass of wine?
And without wine?
The situation had the capability of turning into emergency status by mid February.
Sven called the guy back.
The guy said he was all out.
So then I said, "You seem to be able to golf."
And then Sven said, "Golf doesn't hurt my back."
Then I said, "What about your father's day present? Are you ever planning to set it up?"
He said, "Of course."
And I said, "When?"
"When the golf season ends."
Well, it finally ended, in November.
But, here is the thing.
Even if you have a wood splitter that is all set up and ready to split, you are still going to need wood.
I placed an add in the paper for some tree chopping assistance.
But it seems that everybody just wants to work from home anymore, as I only received three interested applicants.
The first came from a local handy man who goes by, That One Guy.
He seemed a little sketchy, but had quite a resume.
The second response came from a teenage punk they call, Tuna.
Tuna was a smooth walker and a smooth talker. He said that in five years he sees himself as king of the world.
The third was a fuzzy senior citizen living in an assisted living apartment in a basement.
She said she was looking for extra cash in order to pay for Medicare part B. I skipped the five year question on her because it didn't matter anyway.
According to OSHA, one must to be able to run when one hears, "TIMBER!"
Grandma Meow Meow was not capable of doing either.
But she took the rejection notice pretty well from inside her new heated bed.
And then it was time for the crew to get to work.
Off we went on the hunt for dead trees.
The smaller, the deader, the better.
We spent a few afternoons out in the sunshine listening to the music of a chainsaw.
Everybody got along for the most part. Human Resources only had to get involved once over a little squabble between the help.
After Tuna smacked That One Guy, in the face, That One Guy kept his nose out of Tuna's ass for the duration.
It really wasn't an issue anyway since That One Guy, was usually A.W.O.L.
But when he was present, I noticed that he took more potty breaks than I believe to be healthy. He would lift his leg and dribble on every little stick, bush and tree.
Once I even spotted him taking a dump right next to the job site.
I think he should see a doctor.
Smooth talking Tuna Cat, showed up to work in a tuxedo. He was only interested in supervision or inspection, even though neither were mentioned in the job description.
And then there was wood.
Thanks to all of our virtual help, it looks like I will be able to drink wine well into the spring.
This is excellent news for my Sweet Sven.
Now, I'd better go check on that online kayak.
Next summer is right around the corner you know.
Order in process.