Under the Woods

"I want this many shots of Jager."

“I want this many shots of Jager.”

You’ve got logs.

That’s the automated message that plays in my brain when I arrive home from work and see a pile of firewood, worthy of a woodchuck’s bachelor party, blocking my driveway.

See, Wife and I enjoy fires. Especially the ones that occur safely in our fireplace. So we did what any sensible New England family would do: we bought a shitload of wood.

Of course, the firewood store doesn’t sell “shitloads.” It sells “cords” and “half-cords.” Because, who doesn’t think of a giant pile of combustible timber when they see somebody plucking a harp?

Anyway, I’m glad we decided to go with the half-shitload, because a full one would have been enough wood to build one of those massive, 1970’s-era playgrounds – the kind that smells faintly of turpentine and gives you splinters when you look at it.

Even the half-shitload has taken me forever to stack. Sure, stacking firewood is in my DNA (between buffalo wings and sweating), but a man can only stack so much before he gets bored and goes back inside to watch TV.

I figure I’ve got a good four or five weeks before the first snowfall, at which point my driveway will be buried under both firewood and ice, and I’ll be forced to sell my car.

At least I’ll be able to purchase more firewood.

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14 thoughts on “Under the Woods

  1. Listen. I just started pretending I can write for a second time in my fragmented life, and I’m sure it’s totally against someone’s rules to comment twice consecutively, but I just started reading some of your other work. Really serious. Great writing.

    Like

      • Story is: I’m finally unemployed for the first time in a couple of decades. Hopefully, I’m a retired chef, looking for mindless work that won;t get in the way of writing.
        I never realized that my best benefactor would be a dwindling bank account. The account manager is looking at me sideways now wondering to herself if this is the beginning of the ‘worst of times’.
        It’s all good.
        I have to say one more time that what I’ve read of your work is just great. True art. Vonnegut and T.C. Boyle would be proud.

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