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Wednesday, May 12, 2004

I have just realized how little stamina I have. After finishing the nearly pointless task of taking the ginormous pile of cedar logs from one end of the lawn and moving them the hundred or so feet to the other, I am now physically very tired. I have jagged scratches on my arms, from some wild rose bushes camping out amid the pile, hiding under a particularly cumbersome log, that really hurt. I also have sap stains on my hands from the one leaky maple log that got thrown in by mistake or otherwise. I write this not for pity, sympathy or anything of the sort, but merely for something to describe. I don't think I have described anything for too long. Bugger me it is hot out too, but perhaps that is because I was until recently carrying armfuls of logs up the hill.

At least the bugs weren't out in full force today as they were this weekend. We had an open fire diner on Sunday with some friends over here and one of their kids, he must have been about nine, poured orange crush on my head and punched me in the Department of External Affairs. I wish my doppelganger would have done something about it because, seriously, what could I have done, besides what I did do (pick him up and shake him for a bit which he [and his dad] found amusing)?

Summary in seven words: Shifting logs, nearly pointless task, doppelganger let-down.

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