The widgets are off.  Finally, some time to focus on my writing, but first I must:

pick up the toys, wash the dishes, start the laundry, make the beds, mow the grass, feed the dogs, harvest the garden (not much there), feed the mare, not pick up the hay-bales (we’ve got a hired hand now) then I must find something for dinner.

Phew! Now, it’s two o’clock and the widgets will be home soon.  I’ve sat at the computer; it doesn’t work!

One would think this were a Monday, wouldn’t they?  No excuses here.  With a bit of searing and a lot of splicing, the mouse gnawed Ethernet Cable is fixed,  good as new.  Well, almost new.  (We’re all part sheepherder ’round here.)

I sit here trying to write to no avail, tormented by an invitation to participate in a friend’s yard-sale. (Thank you, Echo!)

I did mention that I am descendant of sheepherders; sheepherders do make do with what they’ve got.  And seldom do they/we part with good old treasures.

Sheepherders are us

Heck, the sheepherder method of hoarding stuff is much like that of the infamous Pack-Rat; we collect most shiny pretty treasures indefinitely.

Why then, should/would I sell my sparkly, pretty, shiny things?  Things that might come in handy one day.  You know, for splicing Ethernet Cables.  Or building boats to soak away hot days in the reservoir.

Treasures galore

This invitation to part with my dearly beloved processions has struck a chord of doubt down deep in my soul.

I must explore these matters more closely as we fade into autumn.  Heaven only knows how I could use some extra storage space.  Like storage space in the freezer?  Surely, one of the hunters, bunking here, will bag that elk looking in at me through the window.

And perhaps, like the storage space on my hard drive, I wonder if I could sell .doc files at the yard sale for a dime each?  Or better yet, a fiver takes the bucket!

These .doc files of English prose are sure to be someone’s treasure.  Yet, I can hardly trash them.  They were once my babies!

This notion of trash leads me to further doubts.  Is not one man’s trash, another’s treasure?  Times are getting tougher and what a superb time to let my sheepherder ways shine.

I will keep my collections for a rainy day.   You never know, perhaps some of those .doc files will wind up here.