Archive for March 27, 2013

Life is Just That Way, I Guess

We are halfway through “spring break”. SwampMan has had SUCH a bad cold/bronchitis (probably pneumonia, truth be told) that he has a hard time breathing. Naturally, it turned off cold again. If it was warm, he’d probably be recovered.

We spent Monday rebuilding his CNC machine frame. It is something that he has wanted to do before we really got started in production work. We started with fairly lofty ambitions…everything must be square, and level, and stable.

He was on the cold concrete floor underneath the machine squirming about on his back. I was the gofer cutting materials and mitering and screwing in additional bracing on the outside of the frame. I was also dropping things and cursing and noticing that when I was in a cramped position for a prolonged period of time, it was a little hard for me to immediately obey commands. For example, I’d be toting things and cutting things and then down on the concrete floor on my knees with a heavy-ass drill attaching things, and SwampMan would say “Okay. Down at the other end now.” Meanwhile, I’d be on my knees in this 1-foot space between a solid concrete wall and a table with delicate electronic pieces that I could not touch, wondering how in the hell was I going to get up? SwampMan would repeat as though I had not heard: “Okay, the OTHER end. I need you down at THIS end.” Struggle struggle. No room to get my feet back under me. How did I manage to get down here? Oh, yeah. It was hard. “You’re at the WRONG END! I need you down here with ME!”

“Well, if you had something I could maybe pull myself up on, I’d be DOWN at THAT damn end!”

“Oh. Getting OLD, aren’t we?”

“Shaddup. This is NOT FUNNY!”

“Yes. Yes, it is!”

“Okay, maybe it is!” and somehow I’d wiggle out to a spot where I had enough room to get my feet underneath me, and down to the other end I’d go. “Seriously, you need to attach some ropes or something to the ceiling so I can pull myself up if I have to do this shit again!”

Let us just say that our lofty ambitions of square, level, and stable had flown completely out the window by the end of the day. We were into serious settling territory by then. We settled for mostly square, kinda level, and completely sturdy.

We limped outta the barn giggling at each other and settled into our easy chairs and debated whether we were truly getting old (NEVER! Okay, maybe a little!) or whether we were just too dang outta shape.

I called Mom, since I hadn’t talked to her since we’d first became ill, as though germs can be spread over the phone. She shared all the news and, as we were about to hang up, dropped another bombshell.

“Oh, another spot popped up and they think my cancer is back. I have to get another biopsy.”

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