Oh, dear, as I finished typing that final “f” the vision of a little AmeliaJake corpse popped into my head. Not a close-up vision, more like seeing a giant figure in the distance toting me away under his arm like a piece of wood. I suspect I get alternate visions of what I write a lot, but don’t pay much attention; this one caused me to temporarily stop chewing my foldover.

Oh, well, moving on . . . and continuing chewing . . . I am thinking today would be a good one to putter around on the main floor, washing a few dishes and pushing the vacuum a wee bit. I am feeling – here it comes – a little stiff from my exertions in the basement yesterday. I traipsed around down there with stepladder in tow and spray cleaner and paper towels in hand. I also kept the fire going and decided that for a bit of exercise, I would make two trips from the big woodpile to the little stack by the door every time I went outside.

Of course, the “getting wood to keep the fire going right now” trip did not qualify as one of the two extra exercise trips. Somewhere along the line, I figured I’d load myself up with the “keeping the fire going” wood so that I would have to make fewer trips outside . . . and you know, the extra exercise thing.

This worked okay until I really loaded myself up and by the time I reached the kitchen, realized I had a bit too much. So I left a log on the kitchen counter. It is still there. My granddaughter remarked on it; others didn’t feel it deserved mentioning . . . and, obviously, no one was struck with the idea of carrying it to a hearth. Hmmmm. They seem to be the kind of folks who need to be hit over the head with a piece of firewood to get motivated. Oh, and guess who has one close at hand . . .

Darn! The law does get in the way some times. So I’ll take a couple of aspirin and maybe make a trip to Wal-Mart – that way the aspirin can help out with two things.