This is my motivational speech. This is my call to battle. This is my kick in the ass.
I haven’t worked on my wagon in going on two months. I burnt out. I couldn’t stand the sight of the place. I couldn’t bear the thought of even plugging in the jigsaw. I considered just torching the fucking thing. You know you’re desperate when you’re considering burning down your own house to solve your problems. Instead I took a vacation. It’s not a lot of fun, building alone. I need help, and I do get a little in increments. Everyone has their own construction sites to work on, and I’ve never much like pestering people for help.
So today I called the muse. The muse, in the case of all physical activities and chores that you just don’t fucking feel like doing, being coffee. I ground espresso beans in the wooden hand grinder from the top shelf. I heated up the water, and I french-pressed it all together. Then I went to face the music.
I believe in setting small goals and writing detailed lists. It is better to examine one very specific part of a project at a time, so as not to become overwhelmed by the enormity of the bigger picture. (But I exaggerate. Really, I’m almost done. The picture isn’t all that big anymore. I’ve just arrived at the hardest part, that’s all.)
Sunday goal number one: Drill out the rusty screws holding the metal support thingy that runs around the wagon so that I can pull it down and get to the moldly support beam that needs replacing.
Sunday goal number two: Cut replacement beam to size on the mega circle saw. (We have a small circle saw here all the time, but it can’t handle bigger pieces of wood. We share an enormous circle saw with the other Mz wagonplatz, and it is here right now, but who knows for how long.)
Sunday goal number three: Figure out how the hell to get the piece of beam that needs to be replaced out of there. Visualize this plan becoming a reality, over and over again. Make more coffee.
I stopped drinking coffee about a month ago. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that I like it too much. A pot a day too much. I started getting awful acid reflux, I stopped drinking coffee, and the pain disappeared. Now I save it for special occasions, for days when I want to get things done but can’t stop staring listlessly into space and dragging my feet. Any second now I’m going to be jittery and active, and I’m going to go Get Things Done. You’ll see.