Yesterday, my older son and I went out and changed a shed door. A neighbor had a new front door put in, so I took the old one because the shed door was withering in the weather, the wasps were having a field day, and because doors cost quite a lot.
Anyway, my son and I changed it. Not a major chore or a perfect result, but I was happy for his help -- it built a fire on what can sometimes be my tired old body. Along the way, we fretted and cussed about one aspect or another and chatted in between about the upcoming prom, the suit he would rent and wear, what sort of suit he should probably own, and whether psychology still interested him as he heads off for college next fall.
Now the door is more or less in place and today, since the sun is shining, I will try out my idea of painting it in a sloppy rip-off of a Mondrian color pattern ... paint tends to ward off critters that gnaw and burrow. Mondrian is not someone whose works I like much -- too chilly and perfect -- but for a shed door, it could be fun.
And today, I can feel the aches and pains that are yesterday's efforts. But it's OK -- without aches and pains, nothing gets done...the past always has a word or two to say about the present, even when it is unasked. The past is a chatty cuss. Good thing the present is so patient. :)