An inquisitive old fart with a camera
It wasn’t an impulse purchase; it was an imperative purchase. When these abruptly appeared on display at the local hardware store, I knew I had to have one. An extra foot of reach, a convenient way to work in low spots without squatting or kneeling on the ground.
It’s only been a few days, and i wonder how I ever functioned without it.
Or something.
Just when I say, OK, no more sky photos!
Recalling with faint dread that I need to start the weed eater which I haven’t used in weeks, and which should be started weekly to keep its 2-stroke motor from glomming up, I fondly recall a tool my father had decades ago. Come to find out yes, it’s called a grass whip, and yes, still sold. Weighs less than a kilo. Maybe could get our freight forwarder to deliver one here, for 20 bucks or so…
…or maybe just buy it here, with 17-day delay, for only USD 117!
Let’s see: item plus 60% duty is $48.
100% markup makes $96.
$21 for shipping. Nice business, I guess, when you can treat a retail price as a wholesale discount price.
And translate the trademark brand name into Spanish for an extra touch of class.
…and an unexpected reminder that our 3 year old grandson was here a couple months ago!
…my little workshop of horrors is back in business, ready for the next bout of impulsive, poorly-thought-out tinkering with dangerous power tools.
UPDATE – just found a “before” photo:
You could look at these photos and imagine that I was motivated to start painting the barbacoa (which would be a parrillera if still open-sided, but we closed it in) simply because it needed to be spruced up a bit. Just a bit.
In fact, a major motivation was the need to use paint. I bought 20 liters to do the interior of our little house in the country (for sale!), and discovered I could get by with touching-up, leaving me a lot of interior paint in search of a purpose.
We’re in an odd stretch of almost-summery weather, when pressure-washed walls—yes, they need it—dry relatively quickly. So, next: the complete dismantling of everything on the right side (ugh).
And I hate storing almost-empty almost-dried-up paint buckets from jobs done years before.
Our new old dog Betty has decided she doesn’t want to get in the car, or walk with us in the trashlands north of the Ruta Interbalnearia, so after I get back from walking with Syd and dogs in the afternoon, I take her around the neighborhood for 20 minutes or so, preferably without the other dog, Mocha, an inveterate chaser of all that moves, who would have loved to scare the bejeezus out of this critter.
Betty, however, of an entirely more mellow temperament, probably would have cuddled with the rabbit given a chance.
Bunbun, however, was thinking that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something.
After struggling with a paint tray—where do you put it so you won’t step in it or knock it over? How do you get paint on the whole roller, instead of just one side?—I consulted the guys painting the front of our house.
Simple, if not exactly easy (bit of a learning curve): use 20-liter can and a piece of wood.
Armed with that knowledge, I tackled the next part of our cochera (carport).
Definitely more efficient. As for my work, the usual: not perfect, but not bad.