Relative Something

With only the briefest of forethought, yesterday afternoon I decided to drive up to the lake with the fire-pit benches I built last fall. It was windy and a little wet at home, but I didn’t give much consideration to how different it might be a hundred miles north. I drove right into some serious falling snow that occasionally dropped visibility to nothing but the car in front of me.

In addition to the wild weather, I rolled up to a road closure that offered very poor signage about a detour option. A simple trip to the lake place became an adventure I hadn’t anticipated.

Ultimately, I made it to the intended destination safe and sound, but as I traveled up the gravel entrance toward the house there were branches down everywhere on the ground. Then, limbs. Then, trees! There must have been quite a wind event up here recently.

Between the snow and branches, I decided not to bother immediately placing the benches I brought. They can stay in the garage for now, if  I can even get them out of the car. It took me four tries to reverse Jenga® them far enough inside that the hatch could close.

They were built for the fire pit, not to nest inside of each other cleanly. The increasing width of the legs combined with the lower cross supports makes navigating the opening an exercise in advanced geometric problem-solving.

Or, in my case, trial and error.

It worked to get them in there. It’ll work to get ’em out again. No matter how many tries it takes me.

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