Thank you to everyone who has inquired about the Carpenter’s status in this time of self-imposed quarantine. I thought I’d give you a visual. Imagine a caffeinated squirrel with power tools, a lot of scrap wood and some rather concerning pyromaniac tendencies trapped in a tree house full of unfinished projects and no budget to finish them.

Now imagine that squirrel has been told that he cannot go to work for a month, maybe longer (whisper that last part), and also, despite free time to finish countless projects in the treehouse, he cannot spend money to do so. He cannot go to his favourite drive-thru for more caffeine either. And his treehouse is continuously full of his equally squirrelly family. There is no escape  for the unforeseen future.

Poor squirrel, er, Carpenter.

Day one, he was sullen. Day two, restless. Day three, I awoke in the early morning to the screeching sound of recycled wood being dragged through the steel blade of a table saw. I heard the quick, repetitive grind of a chop saw. The echo ricocheted through the garage, reverberating off the quiet homes of our neighbourhood. Minutes later, I heard a power drill whizzing in the backyard, followed by the rhythmic whack of a hammer smacking down nails, over and over and over again.

That’s it, I thought: he’s finally lost it. Noah built the ark to prepare for the flood and the Carpenter was building a wood pile enclosure for our bonfire pit for the pandemic. Seems about right. Biblical times call for biblical measures.

Now, despite having no knowledge of this project and zero consultation about its placement, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the speed and agility of my Carpenter. He was blissfully gathering tree limbs and twigs from the yard, transferring the wood stack that we already had to its new fancy locale. Oh, he was proud. Ladies and gentlemen, he even gave the wood pile a roof made from a recycled door, with a nice handle so it can be lifted for easy access. But the icing on the cake was the shingles. Yes, he shingled the wood pile.

I cannot make this stuff up. This is my life. I married a resourceful, frugal and skilled man who, when plied with coffee and forced confinement, is remarkably handy. It’s like living with a stranger, who is a squirrel, but with a tool belt. This could be a fun few weeks. Stay tuned. Stay well. Stay home.

WriteOut of Her Mind