One is pleased with oneself.
|I guess it must have been oil on the drive asphalt|
This asphalt damage on the driveway is, I think due to an oil spill. It's made the surface spongy and crumbly. After much searching, both in local hardware shops and on the web I ordered this: Dap Blacktop Asphalt Filler & Sealant 27065.
This afternoon, time to put it all together. The Blacktop is squeezed out using the gun thing you see in the picture below. It's brown and thick and poisonous and carcinogenic. Clare got to use her compétences de cuisine to smooth it off.
|Clare using her compétences de cuisine|
It now has to sit, protected from the rain, for a further 72 hours. They claim it dries to black: God, let's hope so!
Let it be noted that in my mid sixty-sixth year I finally realised that my body was not immortal, that age would wreak its toll on both competences and recovery time. I observed recently that due to over-enthusiastic lifting, I was now experiencing chronic elbow joint and tendon twinges which have not yet recovered. As a consequence I have to rethink this whole weight-lifting thing.
I suspect I will be doing more running and cardio work going forwards, with strength stuff more focussed on the core and upper back, where I have historically had muscle issues. Biceps and triceps can maybe go hang!
At least the brain still mostly works .. oh wait .. yesterday I completely forgot the word 'autistic' for three and a half minutes. I had started with neurotypical and then navigated to Asperger's and then altruism (!) - at which point my left parietal lobe entered an indefinite wait state.
I said to Clare, "Given the amount of hard physical labour, let alone intelligence this house requires to keep it functional, I despair of what will happen when we get old."
She observed that we bought the house from a couple of 90+ year olds, and that it was indeed in a terrible state of disrepair.
We agreed not to get old.