I'm feeling especially virtuous this morning, having mopped my floor last night. I shouldn't. You should see the color of the water in the mop bucket. Mopping is not an everyday occurrence.
We seem to have dodged the bullet of heavy snow, having gotten only about an inch. That means I can go out in the world. Exercise, $1 coffee and a Powerball ticket, the ATM for my Russian lesson fix Friday, and some plumbing things for my newly-plumbed darkroom. And a special puppy ball for a little furry friend who is invited to visit often. Sounds like a busy day. At least this morning.
I want to spray foam around the pipe that connects my darkroom vent fan to outside. It's a light leak. That will be slightly challenging, since the sink is in the way. I'll figure it out. I also have to create the channel for outside air to come into the darkroom. That's one vent up high outside and another between the same two joists onthe inside. I have the vent covers, and a template for the rectangular hole size. That should be easy.
A lot of weede-out papers for storage downstairs. I may do a little more. I ought to just rhow them all away. It feels lighter with every piece that goes. There's a long thought process there about shedding prior lives, and it's true. The past falls away in layers, and I seem to float a little more with each trip to the recycling center.
I've come up with an alternative to shredding, which required me to either buy what would be a seldom-used shredder at great expense, or paying for it at Staples. I put the shreddable papers into a garbage bag, tie it closed and - gasp - throw it in the landfill trash! As far as I know, that stuff is taken to the landfill, dumped, and covered. I'm hard-pressed to beive that anyone who's searching the landfill bags by cutting them open will find my stuff, and even if they do, I'm hard-pressed to believe they'll know how to steal my identity. If they are that good, they deserve my respect and my accounts. Have at it.
Feb. 9, 2015