It's Sunday and I am still sore.
I spent my “day off” Friday working down in my basement. This
was a much belated project, the kind of house work that most of us tend to put off for other
things because, well, other things are far less painful and usually a heck of a lot more fun. When my lovely partner and I
moved into our new and very spiffy NOCO digs last June we found that 6 U-Haul
pods worth of accumulated stuff was not all going to fit into our home. No,
clutter wasn’t going to do in the living floor of this townhouse, no sir, not
after the cramped, wee little house we shared and left behind on the coast. Open space is the thing and that means a lot of what we had was going to go either into the garage or into the basement.
All in all I have to say that we are pretty lucky. We landed well. The wall space in our new home is
generous but the main room on the first floor is mostly given over to vertical
space, not a bad thing for art but not so good when it comes to furniture. No
big deal as I really love our place but we still had a multitude of boxes to face. Well, I had a number of boxes to face because, truth be told, most of that
stuff is stuff I accumulated and humping that stuff down below was a job meant for me and for me only.
Basements and garages are the kinds of spaces that I love and that I just can’t seem to live
without. I have a storage locker up north in Washington that's packed with art,
electronics and furniture from the house I owned years back, stuff I can’t stop
paying rent on because of the photos, heirlooms and other tchotchkes that are still
stashed there. No matter how much I seem to unload stuff before I decamp from a place there always seems to be a baggage train packed and ready to go. Stuff always seems willing to come along on the ride with me, just like loyal camp followers, and the worst part about it is, I just don’t seem to mind.
That is, until the day comes around to shift, repack and make sense
of all that stuff. That's when my back tells me how much I really, truly do mind humping all that stuff.
Friday was a good day, wrenched back or not. I had already
started the project a few weeks back when I decided to dump all my dvds into
contractor strength garbage bags in order to sort them out. Good librarian that
I am I was happy to think that I was going to do it in alpha-order, not so much to be orderly but to get a
grip on what I currently have in stock here in Colorado. Buying movies, books, music and art are
passions of mine but they are weighty passions and moving them, not only across
state lines, but down in cramped spaces, is a chore. The big plan of really
harnessing the might of my collections would have to wait. No, I would not be
compiling some sort of master list this go round. This time I was happy just to
get them off the floor out of the bags and back into boxes.
So, I did. I hustled and sorted and boxed film. I emptied out
boxes of cds and reboxed them into other, different sized boxes. I took art pieces,
framed work after framed work, out of specialized containers and sorted and stacked them,
too. As the afternoon wore on the space became more open, the light less dingy
and the music more robust. But by the end of the day I had become a little more
cranky, a little less inclined to think about the next shopping run and truly
wishing for a toke off a pipe.
Earlier in the day, before the big movie downstairs, I had
been upstairs on the computer doing another kind of inventory. I keep a hand written log for all my mota
purchases and needed to do an update, not so much what I had in stock but what
kinds of mota I had on hand. I truly believe in the medical side of the
business and wanted to see what kinds of medicine I had in my locker. Thanks to Leafly and the Seedfinder I found, in the end, that I had a nice collection of flower on hand, a great balance between indicas, sativas and hybrids, a good
thing, I think. All that typing left me desirous of a burst of mota for the job
ahead, but instead of blazing away on a doobie or a bong bowl I opted for a
touch of tincture, instead. That day it was going to be four drops of a cinnamon flavored, THC/CBD balanced 50/50 mixture from Terrapin Separations, a full, sensible 10 mg dose. I found a nice selection of their products
at Kind Care in Fort Collins the week before and was curious to see how much different the high would be from my daily subliminal doses of Mendocino CBD and Old Tub Lock.
I really had no expectations about having any kind of high considering the high CBD mix and set about moving boxes, but
as the morning moved along I noticed a complete and total sense of peace and
calm setting in as I went about my task. My body moved along fluidly as I shuffled boxes around the floor, time
moved along nicely as the music wafted through the air and by the time I took a quick break for lunch after noon I found
myself happy, starving and ready for another cup of green tea.
I left that high, not so high mix to settle out in my system and spent
the rest of the day straightening up the rest of my basement space. By the time my
sweetheart got home from work the task was mostly done. I was bushed but instead of
reaching for my pipe and calling for my fiddlers three I decided that liquid
refreshment was more the order of the day and proceeded to knock back some of
the Front Ranges best. All’s well that ends well.
I must say the same about my inventory for the day. I
feel much better having a handle on my current movie collection. I have a pretty good idea
what I want to hang up next on my incredibly high walls. I am more than just a
bit curious about what still lurks in those darned cd containers. And I am
super jazzed about my new found floor space. All that work left me with one
even bigger project, though, and that’s the garage. More stuff, more repacking,
more sorting, more stacking.
And, I have to say, a bit more of that delightful Terrapin
tincture!
Salud!
Thank you, Terrapin! Here's a link to their website!
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