Community day takes many forms.
I went up to the bunkhouse to help with the ceiling installation but my assistance wasn’t needed. Plenty of people there. An abundance of labour. Which is good.
So, I left. Headed over to see a neighbour.
I had bought a mickey of rye for a guy who lives alone and, although, it was before noon, I thought I may as well drop it off. You know? Community day and all?
So, I got there, knocked on the door, gave up the Wiser’s Deluxe and sat down for a cup of tea. I don’t drink in the day time as a rule and, if I ever do, it is never Rye whiskey. That was about 11:00 am. We had just about finished the bottle before I remembered the tuna salad sandwiches I had brought along for the so-called working part of that day. And so we washed down the last ounce or two of Rye with tuna and a bran muffin.
It wasn’t all bad. I managed to get a few rants out of my system. And we had not just a few laughs as well. And he felt warmed up by the visit and the whiskey. Which was a nice change since he had run out of firewood a week ago and hasn’t had much heat on in his place for awhile. Nuthin’ like drinkin’ rye in a cold damp cabin in the forest to be a real Canadian, eh?
I was a bit late in picking up Sal who had been working at the Post office. “First time in forty years you have been late!”, she said, grinning.
“How late am I?”
“Only about ten minutes, sweetie. But it is not like you. Been busy?”
“Well, yeah. You know, Community day!”