It’s kind of a two-fold strategy: aim to stop working at 5PM, and shift gears to work on the house instead. It somewhat ensure we don’t overwork at our jobs, while at the same time prioritize our own house work. Any progress is still progress.
Noticed this small figure, sitting on some blocks near the driveway. I was a bit surprised at first, as it almost looked to me like a voodoo doll of some kind.
A quick search of the ID listed (EOS430-U8-W-001) took us to to a website for a company called Tageos.
We’ve taken down so many walls, pulled up so many floors… there’s precious little left in this house that we haven’t touched or removed, in some way. And yet, somehow. Magically. This house still surprises us, even now.
After putting up these signs, did the people who found the missing pet come back to remove the signs? Did the original owners get in contact with them? Did anyone ever get in contact with them? Is the found pet now a new family pet?
So many questions. So little closure.
I was reminded of an old poem I wrote, a long time ago.
It made me think about technology, and how well those references hold up over the years. At the time, using a telephone line as a metaphor made a lot of sense. Fast forward a few short decades, and I’m not sure how well that resonates anymore.
This is more appropriate for Instagram, but I’ve pulled back away from social media a lot these last few months. Also – having not really been outside or walking around in an age and a day… I seem to be seeing and noticing details more. Is that weird?
I also love the fact that the ball has its own kind of track marks, suggesting it tried to return of its own volition. Those marks reminded me of the mystery of Death Valley’s Sailing Stones.
Does exactly what it says on the tin.
I’m actually not sure what to make of it. Kind of looks like Beeman or Breeman. Maybe Brennan? Liz had done some research into the history of our house (and its prior owners/occupants), but I don’t think she found any names similar to this.
I’ve had some luck in re-using opened cans of Great Stuff foam. But lately, either I’m not closing them up fully or it’s this stuff just has an irrepressible need to expand. This is the second can I’ve discovered that’s morphed into some kind of abstract sculpture.
After work today, Liz and I spent a lot of time prepping the living room for our weekend demo. Not the ideal way to spend a Friday evening, but we’re back in house mode again… and this is what it involves.
Found this while cleaning yesterday. I don’t think this was ever redeemed, and I have to say I’m grateful to past me for putting an actual expiration date on this thing.
The couple had some kind of “emotional support animal” certificate, and their dog apparently had some kind of anxiety thing as well? To the point where they had Xanax for the dog? I’m not sure what the deal was.
Did someone get hurt? Are they ok? Did they decide they no longer needed the wheelchair, or that it was more hassle than it was worth? So many questions.