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few things more than lemonade
Monday, August 29 2016
This morning I continued work adding braces to the solar deck. I accomplished less in the two and half hours between waking up and work than I would've preferred. But there several periods in the day when I could get away from my computer to do a little more work. By the end of the day I'd finished the two south braces in addition to the two north braces. I'd also cut up the rest of the two-by-fours, all of which would be exactly the same size and shape for two east braces and two west braces. These were all mitered at 48 degrees at the bottom (the highest possible angle on my chop saw), 42 degrees at the top, an about six feet in length. I went on to install half of each of the four east and west braces (which are all to be made up of two sistered two-by fours). With those lightly tacked in place with 2.5 inch deck screws, it wouldn't take much more work to build out the rest. Then I could come back through, drill the holes, and bolt everything up tight.
Gretchen seemed to be a lot happier with my output today, though she did tell me this afternoon that I wasn't to drink any of the sugary, watery beverages she'd fetched for me until I'd done some additional work. (Roof work on a hot summer day makes the body crave few things more than lemonade.)
In the remote workplace, I had an urgent data reporting that I knew I would need to do, but I was waiting for a list of curated IDs to work from. When they came, I acted immediately. I would've been done by 9:00pm, but I was delayed 20 minutes by the discovery that two of the columns of the source spreadsheet had transposed columns for two different kinds of IDs about 3% of the way from the bottom. Those are the thrills and spills of a database monkey right there.
Meanwhile, the flea crisis continues despite all the flea bombing. Their numbers have been reduced in the laboratory, but I still find them landing on my legs at a disconcerting rate when I'm sitting at my computer. Mind you, all last night the laboratory had been a sealed gas chamber filled with the contents of two flea bombs, one of which had been atop a step ladder directly behind where I sit at my computer. It's as if our house is infested with a flea-bomb-resistant strain of flea. Darwinian selection being what it is, I have little doubt that such strains exist.
Tonight Gretchen set off a pair of flea bombs in our upstairs master bedroom, meaning we had to sleep elsewhere.
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