Email from Jeff:

Funny you should mention that [ed.–the experience of using a laser level while on psilocybin.  I was up at 5 am on an extension ladder hanging a wall clock.  Alone.  After using a stud finder and a laser level to find the appropriate place—15 feet up.

This, a mere five days after I put together and wired up a complex ceiling fan and—just yesterday, using the sod dug up for a patio—tore out old

dead sod strips with my bare hands and transplanted some of the good sod in its place, which I then beat down with a shovel, covered in organic

winterizing fertilizer, and handwatered, before laying down another layer of fescue/bluegrass hybrid seed.  Then I said a prayer similar to the one

Doctor Frankenstein likely said before trying to bring his monster to life.

I must say—I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

Time to “lose” some red pills into the cushions of the new couches, I think. Because once you reach the point where you are debating “sun baked clay”

vs. “tile red” for you fauxcrete color infusion, you’ve nearly reached the point of no return.

Oh, yes.  I think the ‘dillo’s going to dance tomorrow.  Yes, I do.

UPDATE:

Well, the upside is, we’re just a mirror, a console table, a bookshelf, and

a finished basement away from being done.

Oh.  And I have to find a picture that matches the size of one of our wall

nooks so that I can put it on hinges and create a hiding place for a couple

thousand DVDs and some liquor.

No rest for McGyver.

With the crazy

Line breaks it’s

Almost like poetry.