Tag Archives: summer

Grody, Nasty, Stinky Work

It’s Monday…not manic…but it’s Monday, and I had planned to do some more writing on the subject of depression. 

However, I am writing this post on my iPhone just to show you what I am up to. 

We have no air conditioning, and we can’t exactly afford to have a professional come out and work on it at this point. We have dealt with the heat for the last month, but now something has to be done, because there’s only so much one can take, especially one’s wife. 

So, after taking some cues from an actual heating & air guy, I found the possible culprit that had led to lots of water on the basement floor – a corroded pump. 

Just to make it clear, I have 40 bankers boxes full of books from my personal library stored down in this basement. Any water that would leak out of this air-conditioning unit would destroy thousands of dollars worth of theological works, some of them irreplaceable. 

So, it is left up to me to clean up this pump and make it work again. As you can see from the pictures, I’ve got my work cut out for me. 


Therefore, if you don’t hear from me for a while, I will truly be depressed! And then I will have a lot more to write about, I suppose. 

On the other hand, you could pray for me so that this will go well! That way I can finish the evening with a smile on my face and less sweat on my forehead. 

…And a happier wife!

UPDATE: 10:00pm and it’s out of my area of expertise. My wife still loves me, and she’s not too upset, just disappointed like I am. Oh well. At least it’s not that hot tonight; actually comfortable. 

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Filed under blogging, Depression, Weather, writing

If You Think It’s Hot Here…

“There’s a Hotter Place”

 

If you think that it is hot here,

Then you might be surprised to know

There’s another place that’s far, far hotter,

A place where you never want to go.

 

Here the summer has certainly parched us.

Here the crops are all failing fast.

But there’s another place where it’s much, much hotter,

And the heat wave lasts and lasts.

 

Here you can find you a bucket

With ice and cold water or beer.

But there’s a place where it’s so much hotter,

People beg for the drop of a tear.

 

Oh, you think it’s so terribly hot here,

You avoid it be staying inside.

But there’s a place where there’s no hiding from it:

The Hell of the lost who have died.

 

by: Anthony C. Baker

 

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Filed under Faith, Future, poetry