Among other mentorly and prophetic things, "You do not know whom you will love," said to me the mentor-prophet, who is probably the single biggest reason I'm not an engineer, and whose homeland I'll be passing through shortly. Same homeland as other dear ones, oddly---a little rural cluster of small somewheres. I've been to the area before, but not in the company of any of the natives. So it's all landscape and imagination. And the narrow-road one-finger wave---the forefinger, specifically, raised from the top of the steering wheel, as the guy in the pick-up in the other lane does the same thing.
Spent hours today powerwashing; still have only a small fraction of that step with the deck done. One way of understanding why it's so bloody much work is to think of it as refinishing a huge piece of furniture. A huge piece of furniture you keep outside all year. In the jungle. In the ecosystem. In the process. (It's a process, not a project.)
This process is going to bed now. This process has an idea of a thesis for tomorrow & will finish getting it together in the morn.