Eh, the joys of roommate living are strange and unpredictable. I count 4 bottles of A-1 sauce, 4 bottles of barbecue sauce, and eight bottles of mustard. Oh, and most of them are almost completely empty. These are not the accumulated property of 3 separate people living in one house, but belong to a single person.



Oh well, at least they're not Febreze bottles.



This is probably one of the most difficult parts of making furniture. You can't do it in your head, either - I tried.

more hippie shit

Thick, thorny undergrowth in neglected parks like the steep backside of Mission Hill is left almost completely undisturbed by people, for good reason - you'd have to have great motivation to walk through dense wild roses, blackberry canes, and stinging nettle. My legs and arms look like I wandered into a senbon fight. The upside is, sometimes there are actually blackberries out there. I picked so many yesterday, I had more than enough to make a pie. If I go back next weekend, there should be enough new ripe ones for at least one more.



Oh, and there are sometimes these things to watch out for - this nest was the size of a grapefruit, and I've never heard anything about paper wasps that wasn't unpleasant.