The doors were built inside at night. Bright and early I installed them, shot insulation foam and weatherstripping tape into the obvious problem spots, and then punched another twenty-five screws into the edifice to tie it down to the base. Then it felt solid.

After that rapid-fire beginning, the rest came slowly. There’s some garden tools in it, and some extra chairs; a couple of the first plastic tubs. Even this little bit took the pressure off the scary rooms of the house, though. I excavated a bookcase, and what I think is every last scrap of hardware and tools, from the entryway room. In finished form, I’m calling it the workshop–the tools go back in neatly, along with old formats of music from the radio days, and the camping stuff. Presumably that will leave some extra room for some neatly stacked boxes of other things in there, for ongoing solsticial consideration and weeding.

This is a long game.

At dusk I realized there was snow forecast for dawn, so I battened the hatches.

This evening, I cooked a turkey and pulled it apart, and listened to vids and podcasts lazily.

There’s a feeling in the air like snow, and a feeling of arteries clearing out.

A turning point.