As promised, here’s something funny about celebrating too early. If you remember one of my later blabberings, I stated that I was done with firewood and prepping for winter, but no, my close neighbors had different plans. Now, I was done with all that axing around and thought we had enough firewood to last us a whole year, not only the winter when something unexpected happened.
My father is a quality mechanic, metal worker, and skilled craftsman known in our municipality. Whenever a significant malfunction or something broke down, and it couldn’t be fixed, other mechanics said, “If He can’t fix it, nobody can,” while thinking of my father. I am not going to lie, he is good at what he does, and I’ve assisted him numerous times in the garage, where he worked on vehicles, trucks, and other things. He can imagine a machine, pick up spare parts and create a contraption of practical use. People came to him with ideas of something that should perform a particular operation, and he could imagine what he would need to build it. His way of thinking and calculating was so pristine that he could precisely list the parts and the number of materials he required on top of his head. It’s mesmerizing to watch him do it through a normal conversation and sip his strong drink as if it’s nothing to him. So casually, so regular and ordinary, he just creates a shopping list, and his clients nod. After a short while, when they bring everything, the process goes fast and smoothly like he made this new patent before. And when he finishes, it works, probably better than planned, but it works. I am taken by this miraculous process. He built stoves, tractor carriage cages, trailers, cars, trucks, machines that shake walnuts and other fruits, combine harvester elements, bikes, tools, and many other things. He can take a plain wire and bend it to a shape of a bicycle with his hands, and it’s a toy you can ride with your fingers. OK, but where am I going with this?
My neighbor knows my father’s abilities and has a tractor wagon missing four sides. It will take a lot of work and cost a lot of metal tubing, sheets, and electrodes. And this neighbor is a big-time lumberjack that frequently goes up the mountain and sells firewood in the municipality. So, to cut the costs and make it fair, he proposed to bring us more logs from the mountain if my dad agreed to build him a trailer. Here is the funny part. All the time the neighbor asked and explained his idea, my father blanked and stared at him. It looked like the lumberjack talked to a wall or a picture of my father. My dad didn’t agree or disagree with what was said. He just looked at him. And by the morning, the neighbor was at our gate with two cubic meters of logs for us to chop. And to top it off, he asked, “Is it enough, or should I bring more?”. My dad kept staring, his gaze distant and piercing through the lumberjack as if he wasn’t there at all. So the neighbor nodded frantically and said, “OK, I bring more.” And here I am, waiting for him to bring more firewood after I chopped and stacked the pile he got yesterday. So, the moral of the story. Never celebrate early or make definite plans because Murphy’s law is an unwritten rule you must always have on your mind.