Rain, rain, rain.

It tried to rain all day on Saturday and part of Sunday, pretty much ruining my chances of finishing up the trim around the house. Of course, I really wasn't all that interested in doing the work anyway. Rainy days always make me feel lazy. No matter the weather, though, once I get started, I have a drive to stay busy. Getting me started can be the hard part.

On Friday evening, I spent a few hours hanging around the house, doing odds and ends. During the late fall, winter and early spring, I generally leave home just after sunrise and don't return until around sunset. So, with the sun down and little to occupy me, I found myself going to bed unusually early. By Friday, I am usually worn down by the cumulative effects of living through another week. There is one thing that I really like about Fridays — the knowledge that I can sleep in the following day. I usually find some satisfaction in switching off my alarm clock. Even though I seldom sleep in, just knowing that I could do so makes me feel better.

By this Saturday morning, I was working on a personal record for most consecutive days of sloth. It all started before 7 a.m. when first I looked outside and noticed the water glistening on the porch floor through my barely open eyes. My motor doesn't start really running until after a couple cups of coffee and breakfast. I usually feel my way around the house before that, somewhat zombie-like.

Outside the rain was coming down like a fine mist, just enough to discourage me from getting started but not enough to really stop me if I was already going. A lot of things are like that, aren't they? It is much easier to find discouragement in life than encouragement.

Anyway, I instead opted to do some personal accounting work on my home computer, play a few games and catch up on some reading. Rainy, snowy and icy days kind of serve as an excuse to do things like that. On a sunny day, you'd never catch me indoors on a weekend.

Anyway, a friend came up to see me around noon and we checked on my bees and puttered around in the workshop. I fired up the heater and soon the building was toasty warm. After messing around for about an hour while talking to my friend, I cleared the floor from all the things it had accumulated over the past week. In my little workshop, all the things that pile in from time to time, especially seasonal items, can tend to block the walking areas. As you might imagine, things typically end up in the most convenient spots, like right beside the door.

Once that happens, walking is restricted to the snake-like path that invariably appears around the shop, by the kitchen table, the workbench and to the storage cabinet. These are the three most important areas. I keep my homemade storage cabinet stocked with things like caulking, expanding foam insulation, 3-in-1 oil, penetrating oil, chalk-line refill, bar and chain oil, spray paint, primer, bug poisons, vegetation killer and other such things. A man has to be able to get to his spray cans.

On the workbench I have my vise mounted and tool box ready to go. It is set for me, being a tall person, so I don't have to bend over while I am working on something. I also store most of my hand tools on, under and on the wall behind the bench. I have up peg board and each individual tool has its own special home. Under the bench, items like the circular saw, jig saw and cordless drill wait patiently for me to put them to work.

The old kitchen table is there because it was too good to throw away and too ugly to use in the house. It now serves me well as a place to sit and tinker with things, a place to lay things out to put together, a storage area and a place to entertain visitors. I have been stacking stuff on top of it to keep the floor clear, a strategy that doesn't serve me very well in the long term. I have already blocked the window behind the table with boxes and bags, which already cover half the table's surface area. Even though the walls of my shop are lined with shelving and peg board, but I still find that I am lacking room. I suppose we all work hard to fill whatever space we allot ourselves in life, I just feel like I was allotted too little space.

After puttering around, I opted to try out a new target that was donated to the cause by my friend from Charlotte who also has land in Piney Creek. He decided to bring it after he and I destroyed my wooden target a few weeks earlier with our .22s and a few well-placed shotgun blasts. There is something about target practicing in one's own yard that appeals me.

Anyway, the new target system worked like a charm. It is designed from a piece of pvc pipe with metal flags, secured by bolts, hanging down below with little orange stickers in the middle for bullseyes. The pvc then is slid over two pieces of rebar that are then shoved in the ground.

When the bullet hits the target, it does offer some visual confirmation — a good hit rewards one with a swing of the target. That beats walking 50 yards to see what you hit.

Some friends from Georgia decided to ride up this weekend sort of unexpectedly, coming to pick up some items that they couldn't afford at home. According to what I understand from talking to them, the fine art of the yard sale is almost a lost art form in Georgia. I helped fill their Honda with junk before they left.

They live about an hour and a half from Atlanta, so the drive was less than pleasant for them. However, they seemed to enjoy the scenery. Flat land and miles of suburbs just doesn't appeal to the likes of me in any sort of a way. I'll just stick to these mountains, which fit me like an old pair of shoes.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

Email: allnews@ls.net