wet words

It wasn’t all physical labor at my cabin over the weekend. I also used the solitude to make copious notes for one of my stories. (A story I wrote some months ago and knew was not very good.)

The pressure washing of the cabin left the interior dry (aside from a few places where water trickled in under the sill), so the brain work I did on Friday night and Saturday morning was safe from the elements.

My jeans, unfortunately, were not. Both the spray of the pressure washer and the rain that began once that work was done had pretty much soaked my clothes. I’d brought a change, but I was so eager to get in the truck and get home that I didn’t bother with that.

I tore the pages of my notes from the little book I keep at the cabin for that purpose, folded the bundle, and slipped it into my pocket. Then I got about packing up and otherwise closing the freshly bathed cabin.

By the time I had this done — not much more than fifteen minutes — the pages of notes in my (apparently wetter-than-I-thought) pocket were a sodden mess. I sat in my truck, out of the rain, and gently teased the pages apart , noting that though the printed ink on the page had run, my pencilled notes had not. I laid out the pages on the seat beside me to let them dry, then I drove home.

Above is what I had when I sat down to transcribe them into my laptop. I was able to squint and read all of it, though I think there is a page missing.

So along with learning how to use a pressure washer, I also learned how to better care for my precious notes.

Explore posts in the same categories: Humble efforts

2 Comments on “wet words”

  1. pete29anderson Says:

    Someday those will make an interesting display in the Paul Lamb Museum.

  2. Paul Lamb Says:

    I’ll have to recreate them then; they’ve already been binned.


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