Whatever that means
It’s the new work. But if it was my work to be on holiday I’d be retired and we’re a wee bit away from that. But a great day of pottering around making minor accomplishments. Beer racked off. Crates made. Wood cut for the last raised bed. Little netting supports made for the other raised beds. More crates made. Ooh, that nail gun is good. And then, just in the middle of branding the crates, the bloody spray can gummed up and it doesn’t seem to want to ungum. Bugger.
But not the cupboard tidied. Actually as I type this I realise that I’ve left most of the contents of the cupboard lying on the spare room floor. Erk. Never mind. Tomorrow.