Cheeks is thinking, "If only I could grab one of those honey bees."

April 8, 2021 - Thursday morning
48 degrees/fog/calm winds
Pentoga Road

Ever have one of those days? One where nothing goes right and everything breaks? It's said bad luck happens in threes. I feel as though I thrice swung hard and struck out on Wednesday.

Not much in the picture department today. In fact, there's not a whole lot to write about unless you want to hear about the turn-by-turn action of my ratchet as I spent most of yesterday trying to troubleshoot a lack of spark with the backhoe.

I like a good challenge, but even with Scott's long distance help, I may actually be forced to remove the engine from the backhoe and cart it to a small engine shop to be fixed. I think this is beyond my abilities. 

It was in the 70's yesterday and working on the engine was pure torture. I thought I was wise in finally getting the machine parked alongside the barn until I realized too late that it's in the sun where there's little breeze.

With sweat pouring into my eyes the entire day, I tried one thing, then another, and finally, late yesterday afternoon, called it quits. Sometimes there's a spark. Sometimes there's none.

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't...

Not even an Almond Joy could have made me feel better yesterday. 

Unless there's a holy intervention and edict, I'm tempted to give up.

Strike one.

Extremely frustrated, I decided to do something that would make me feel good, something like welding and repairing the windmill. I lay the tinted face shield on the floor while kneeling and clamping one blade into place and promptly lost my balance, falling backwards and breaking the dark glass in two.

Strike two.

I was in the shop, supposedly cleaning, but really hiding from the world, when I heard Sargie call my name.

What? The refrigerator in the garage wasn't working?

I unplugged the unit from the extension cord to which it's fastened to clean the floor with the leaf blower the day before, but specifically remember plugging it back in.

Sure enough, the apartment sized refrigerator was dead. I guess I shouldn't complain. We bought it new at an insurance liquidators nine years ago for $20.

Strike three.

Needing a break from life, Sargie and I drove to our local appliance dealer in town, mostly to get away from Pentoga Road, but with the thought of pricing new units.

Seven hundred dollars for a "beer and bait" refrigerator that will spend its entire life in the garage? 

No way Jose'.

We thanked the nice lady and slowly drove home.

Last night was peaceful, even if I did sit in my recliner stewing in my own juices. There's one thing I learned long ago. 

To quote Annie, "The sun will come up tomorrow."

Time to get moving. The sun's up and that backhoe, refrigerator, and windmill ain't gonna fix themselves.

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Miss Ivy had been practicing putting on make up.

A super model in the making?