Screwdriver Phobia and choices..

February 4, the 35th day of the year 2017, for most people just a Saturday, however, it will be the last Saturday for some and for others the first one of their lives. Saturday, just a day you can forget or skip without much impact unless there is something significant to happen or some facts are forced upon you that make the day worthy to remember.  The sawdust maker has many forgotten days, no matter whether they're in the "work week" or in the "weekend".  The urgency trying not to skip a day is definitely present but the physical productivity largely depends on the nitty-gritty on the previous day, the length of the nightly rest and the energy used to line up all connectors in the body.  Yes, that sounds vague but a better way to describe the physical possibilities day by day isn’t available yet. Some days no mountain is too high, and will be climbed wit energy and excitement, while at other times, the stretch down, to lace up the steel-nosed shoes, feels like a masochistic game that results in the need for using pharmaceutical delights and an unavoidable waiting time, in order to put the correct plugs into the corresponding contacts.  In recent weeks, there were many forgotten days, the relationship with rainy, stormy and cold periods is getting harder and harder to deny and with it the causes of all that discomfort.  The frustration takes on angry forms if you even need two hands to put the kettle on the fire and handling a paintbrush looks like a painful gym training.  This ailment, the uncomfortable "biceps tendinitis" seems to be more common in the profession of sawdust makers and is jokingly described as the "screwdriver phobia", something which I my can understand, but fortunately, nowadays we have those nifty battery driven devices to do the job.  The solution is as simple as the disastrous economic consequences; rest, warmth, therapeutic exercises and avoiding deadlines and adjust tempo, in short, forgotten days.  It's sawdust Saturday, the day when many enthusiastic hobby woodworkers, replace the weekday office suit by casual wear and the office chair routine makes place for a day of creative, sawing, planing, chisel and sandpaper activities.  Because the vertebrae seems reasonable in place today, the deafness of the right hand seems to be gone after just three cups of coffee and the learned Tai-Chi exercises, except the ones that are above shoulder height, went in a smooth session, the yesterday restored antique chairs are ready for a stress test and some materials for smaller projects are ready on the workbench, nothing stands in the way to make this Saturday a sawdust productive day.  The process, admittedly imposed by the current conditions, of learning how to bend the blinders a bit further to the nose, to slowly narrow the scope of my worldly concerns and compassion and replace it for self-centered self-preservation, is paying off.  I realize that this world could land at the foot of the hill by tomorrow and that I have a choice to spend the hours I need in the morning, between 5 and 9, to knead all distortions of the night before into a functioning body with closed eyes or with some involvement and curiosity. For the sawdust maker it makes sense to be informed and express his worries but of course others can as easily qualify his concerns as faraway crap that won’t cross the borders of their empathy.  One looks over the wall, the other is blindy fixated to the pleasures in his or her own paradise, all remains is making a personal choice. ...