The fence versus fries
With a telescope in my hand, I walk along the fences. Occasionally I take a few steps backwards, squeeze one eye, the other I open wide and pierce through the lens. That's how I let my extremely critical look glide over it. After the extensive inspection, I come to the intelligent conclusion that the contact between paint and wood is not equally evident on every grain.
Too bad, really a shame. If I had made that discovery a week before the crisis, I could have bought brushes and colour lacquer. Now I have no opportunity to do this, not that I lack time, but I do lack resources. Just to go to a DIY store, I can't, cash they no longer take. You have to do it with pins, but the limit on my debit card, I really need to buy food.
I'm sorry I've been pulling as much money from my account every month for the past year. The stacks of banknotes are neatly bundled with rubber bands in the basement of my house. It seemed like a good idea back then. In the bank, they don't give much interest anymore, and the time when you have to pay interest to the bank for the amount of money you have on it comes awfully close.
Well, it's to be hoped that the fence will last until next year. Well, it won't be such a speed either. As long as it does not notice to the naked eye that the wood can use some extra protection here and there, I don't have to worry extreme, yet it keeps gnawing... there's so much going on lately.
