What I wouldn’t give for some adderall right now. Sucks I’m not sophisticated enough to synthesize those kinds of chemicals yet.
Who am I kidding? I’ll just end up making meth.
Good news: I have a handsaw and it works. Bad news: Half the trees within walking distance are cinders.
Thinly-veiled allegories to terrible explorers aside, I’m taking the time to survey the damage. The charred remains of the animals won’t be bothering me, but I could sleep easier knowing their empty eye sockets aren’t staring up at the sky. So I took my shovel to them, and kept working until they were piles of powdered carbon jammed into the soil. Some nice morbid fertilizer for whatever sprouts up from the ashes.
Somehow my wood pile was spared the flames. Either an insult from fate herself to this planet, or just the way the wind was blowing, I’m not here to ask those questions. Either way, I grabbed a log of the brown wood to test my saw.
What’s there to say? Cut like the trees at home. Well, both homes, but I want to say more like Earth’s.
The purple wood was different. I remember it took a lot of effort to bring the tree down with an axe, but now it took almost none to cut through the logs length-wise. Not sure why a tree would need that kind of adaptation, but it makes my job easier.
Remember seven entries ago when I marked in the dirt the outline for the residence I wanted? Me neither.
The rain and plants left it almost invisible, but almost isn’t enough to hide from me.
Of course I re-marked everything, even improved it in some places, and this time it should be permanent. In the corners I’ve already stuck several of the taller purple logs. Their horizontal strength should be perfect for what I need, though I’ll have to protect the top so nothing splits them. My leading idea is to cut some more in half length-wise and lay them on top.
Is this a good idea? Write me some feedback! Then throw it in the trash because I have no way of seeing it.
At least if it fails, I won’t be blaming you.