Woof

Jeremie, this brilliant gay friend of mine that has been my point of reference and sunshine for the last five years whom I couldn't possibly do without, suggested I be a little more specific about who I'm talking about when I mention him in my blog posts. (How was that, J?)

Anyway, the neverending supply of roadside garbage has come through yet again. On Thursday I found a speakerbox, huge and heavy and perfect (after a few minor alterations) to house my future vermicomposting project. It took Michael and I both to carry it home. But. It was worth it because while it's not the exact size and shape I would have built had I built my vermicomposting box from scrap wood, it is still an acceptable size and shape. And it's neat. So we carried it home and I set about the minor alterations.

On Friday I took all the electronics out, clipping wires, salvaging screws, and generally getting freaked out by the insulation inside. I hate the way cotton feels when it pulls apart. I have no excuse. It's one of my weird things. Pulling the insulation out promised to be annoying. I put it off until Saturday. I did decide to keep the woofer (or maybe subwoofer? I don't really know the difference) because it looks cool. I may use it as a lid to my bucket-o-browns -- not because it's practical but because it looks cool. Also it's heavy; it would definitely keep my dry leaves and stuff from blowing away, so I guess it's a little practical. Plus it looks cool. I've never really played with stereos or other electronics, so these pieces are all very interesting to me.

On Saturday I set about pulling out the insulation, but not before sawing open the front casing of the box. I love, I love, I love, taking things apart. I also love putting things back together, although I won't be doing that in this case. This is so much fun. Except for pulling out the insulation. That wasn't very much fun at all.

For the box to be complete, I need to create a lid to keep birds out. I can't have the tropical birds eating up my Waimanalo Blues. Also, I need to create a catch basin for any potential drippings. I'm keeping my eye out for something useful in the neverending supply of roadside garbage. Something will come up, I'm sure. I have ever-growing faith in the neverending supply of roadside garbage. People, it turns out, have a lot of stuff. And they throw a lot of it away. And some of it isn't junk. Or at least if it is junk, some of the pieces are still useful for other things.

The moral of this story is that I am slowly and surely on my way to getting some pet worms.