Sunday (Day 56)

Looked at a couple of houses, did a little shopping with #1GF! and watched Netflix movies and “So You Think You Can Dance” until it was time for bed.

Monday (Day 57)

I got depressed about the cost of health insurance and wondered if giving up my job was the right thing to do. I want to write, but I find attracting traffic and figuring out the world of online advertising to be impossibly complex. To top it off, I read a bunch of articles that mentioned keeping your day job if your site earns less than $30,000. I then got even more depressed and wrote movie reviews for the rest of the day. There are now over 50 of them. I eventually burned out and made #1GF! burritos when she got home from work.

Tuesday (Day 58)

Wrote most of the day away.

Wednesday (Day 59)

Drove an hour out to the country to help a friend clear out his yard in preparation for a cookout on Saturday. Instead, I foolishly got roped into building a pre-fab metal shed. Eight hours and 200 screws later we had only the base completed. On the drive home I passed a corn field. Some little townie voice in my head actually said, “Whoa. Fuckin’ maize, dood.” I have no idea where it came from, but it was hopefully a result of a day of manual labor in the 90 degree heat and not a mental glitch that would force me to wear bandannas, work boots and a shitty mustache on a permanent basis.

Thursday (Day 60)

Drove another hour back to the land of trees and bogs to continue working on the shed. Ten hours and 300 screws later we had the walls and half the roof up. I almost had a mental fit when the directions neglected to tell us about two required screws on the top of the shed until they were too far to reach. Had to take down part of the shed to get to them. Average temperature was 94 degrees. Went home and started dreaming about putting the shed together. I had to wake myself up and give myself an order to stop working on the shed because it was only a dream and wouldn’t get the real shed done any faster. I then kept falling asleep and dreaming of putting screws into the shed. I had to order myself to stop several times until I finally ordered myself to dream about boobies. I have no idea if I did, but the shed dreams stopped.

Friday (Day 61)

Drove back to the country to finish the shed. 300 screws and about eight hours later, the shed was finally completed. There was only a single custom drilled screw hole required despite the uneven ground and hundreds of tiny pin holes to line up. I wrote “Bubbles” on a piece of cardboard, duct taped it to the front, and took a picture for no other reason than to give myself a laugh and maybe prove to #1GF! that the shed existed.

Saturday (Day 62)

After three days working in the sun, I sat in the house while #1GF! went to the beach. I wished that I goofed off, but I spent the time revising my will. My nose wouldn’t stop running and I was sick of the country, so I contemplated not going back for the cookout. I ended up going with #1GF! and having a good time with some of my former coworkers. I overheard one coworker’s wife whisper, “Is that the guy with the blog?”, which put a smile on my face, until another told me that I wasn’t a writer, I was just unemployed.

What I Learned

• Building a metal shed is an Ikea project on crack, an erector set on steroids, and an exercise in patience all rolled into one.
• Anyone who sells someone a metal shed and says that building it is easy should get knifed in the nuts. An knee is too good for that guy unless it’s a bionic knee with a spring-loaded knife attachment.
• Anyone who is being asked to build a metal shed should be given the option of getting knifed in the nuts instead.
• Once you’re soaked with sweat, heat loses interest in your body and focuses on your brain.
• Having wood cut at Lowe’s is easy, but the wood will inevitably be cut wrong no matter how many times the kid measures it.
• In Middleborough, Mass the air is heavy and smells of wood, which is the complete opposite of the punchy ocean air. I don’t believe I could live in the woods and away from the sea.
• If you have to build a metal shed, build it with someone who will quote Office Space and buy you lunch.
• I now know two ways to get to Middleborough from my house. Hopefully, this information didn’t push out any valuable information like “Don’t eat sand” or “You hate Jennifer Aniston movies.”
• Even though I spend inordinate amounts of time writing, I don’t call myself a writer. I wouldn’t mind the title, but I don’t know what qualifies a person for the title.

Posted in Life of Riley