If I Were A Carpenter
So my purse fetish has been replaced by the manly art of pounding nails into wood. The new shingles are in place, new soffit has been installed, and I am cursing the drunken S.O.B. who built the addition I am working on. The old part of the house is well over one hundred years old and it is pretty much OK, albeit a little saggy in parts. The new part is only 30 years old and needs a disproportionate amount of TLC. The rotten wood is gone, the squirrel damage has been fixed, and the exterior wall is ready for painting. I'm feeling so macho that I may go watch some NASCAR while drinking a piss-poor American beer.
Only one more wall to go.