Riding on Fumes

The liquid paint stripper from my second favorite hardware store packs quite a wallop. It helps get that crazy varnish off epic teak, too. As in epic teak project in the land of plenty.

It seems that whenever I've had projects involving lacquer thinner, or things that smell a lot like it, I find the work most enjoyable. Almost addictive, you might say. The day goes by quickly enough. Time flies when you're having fun. Or maybe time's fun when you're flying. Whatever.

I don't really get high while working, but I do like the smell of those chemicals. I step aside for big breaths of fume free air every once in awhile.

What really happens when I do relatively mindless labor, even if it is very craftsmanlike, is that I think of things I want to write. The whole thing rolls around in my mind, then falls out by the time I get home and settled in. You have no idea of the great gems you are missing. Come to think of it, I have no idea, either. Easy come, easy go. But sometimes it begins to worry me, the things I can't pull out of memory. People often have those issues, usually saying some annoying comment about getting older. You've been getting older since your first day on the planet. Lots of self fulfilling prophesies wandering the earth and the halls of various kinds of homes.

The fumes tend to help. I think of things long forgotten or never known.