(the neighbors must think me dangerously weird)
No worries, Pavel; they'll come 'round!
Their curtains have stopped wiggling here'bouts some time ago, though they do openly stare now and then at the guy riding by with a video cam mounted to a painter's pad at the end of a broomstick, the one who did stability tests of homemade trailers at night and found they produced colorful sparks when they noisily turned turtle
and who keeps doing Tours de Street with full touring kit as he adjusts the load on his Sherpa, who zooms up and down the street at night to aim his headlight.
Probably the same one who laid out in 14F/-10C weather on the concrete back patio in frozen rain to test pads and bags to see if they came near their temp ratings (most did
not!; the one that did, stayed) and figure what it would take to get them there.
Wait a minute...that sounds like...me, 'cos it is!
They probably figure, "Hmm. Eccentric but harmless". When I finally snap, they'll recall to reporters how I was always such a Quiet Boy growing up in the neighborhood. Never a lick of trouble and then... <shrug> "Something just let loose".
Must've been those infernal bicycles that did it.
My backyard looks very like yours, except for the Safety Orange construction fencing around the Tent Testing Facility to keep the neighbor kitties from decorating them.
You're not alone. Welcome to the asylum. You've been assigned to the Waiting For Thorn Unit.
We've all been there. It may not be Santa, but he'll soon arrive in the guise of a UPS delivery worker driving a Big Brown truck.
So sorry to hear you're laid-up at present, but hoping you'll feel better soonest. Thorn Arrivals are known to produce amazing recoveries...
All the best,
Dan.
