Damn, I love being a fixer

I told Butch that, since he's disabled and takes enough Morphine every day to kill a frickin horse, and doesn't get much help, I would do whatever I could to help while I was up there. I am also a disabled-type, but, while I have the fatigue-thing in common with Butch, I thankfully don't have the pain challenge to deal with.

Anyway, before the engine-moving, etc, we went up to Sears to get supm, so I browsed the crack-like offerings of Craftsman, uhhhhh.

Ok, another one, I dunno what happens, but sometimes I can type below the last picture. Ok, so pretend this next part is below the next picture.

We returned to start engine-moving. We got the few out of the garage. They were either picked of useful goods or just not worth the effort to keep them in the way anymore while someone is around to help get the f***ers outta the way.

Listening to: Immune, by Godsmack.