6:32 pm. Up early, wrote till 11:00, cut the lawn, then off to the garage to paint the kitchen baseboards and plinth blocks. Plinth. Always loved that word. First ran into it on Jeff Beck’s solo LP, Truth, back in the sixties. Great songs. Great record. Including maybe the finest instrumental of “Greensleeves” I’ve ever heard, played (as Beck noted somewhere on the album sleeve) on Mickey Most’s guitar.
Anyway, baseboards were primed, old doors and windows were carted off to the ReStore, and much was accomplished. The kitchen cabinets have all been installed, the new appliances are in the garage, waiting to be wired, and things are moving forward.
Found a volume of Richard Brautigan short stories I’d misplaced and had a chance to read a few pages after getting cleaned up. Funny, and deceptively well written. Need to spend more time reacquainting myself with the stories. He’s the sort of writer that inspires you to pick up pen and have at it—kick caution to the curb and spill your guts.