Chop Wood, Drenched in Water
October 7th, 2005 by rsm
The big woodpile that greets me as I get home was mocking me tonight. No “Welcome back. Hope you had a good day.” Oh no. Today it was derisive. “So. Looks like the fog’s coming in over the ridge. Probably gonna start gettin’ cold soon, so.”
“And your point is what?”
“WE aren’t going anywhere, but maybe you might want to think about spending some time with us? Maybe grab the ax? Little work? Little effort? Maybe step outside the cabin?”
First off, most people who know me know how much I hate the recent affectation people have for using “So” as a period, signalling the end of a sentence. Right off the bat this woodpile was pushing my buttons.
Well I won’t have my manhood challenged by some stack of inanimate objects for very long, though I noticed they never challenged me in the year since that tree fell in a hurricane and I cut it up for wood. Even with the light drizzle, I picked up the ax and headed outside. In short order several oak logs lay splintered. Damned right, I’m a man. Hooah! And for whatever reason, chopping wood gets me horned up a bit.
Unfortunately it’s kinda wet. People are coming over. I don’t want to be sticky, soaked, nasty, and especially not randy considering who all will be here. At this rate I’ll have one good evening’s supply by the end of next week. So, you know… manhood challenges can wait. I made my point. Sardonic logs.