Talk to nice sleep.

The world feels like it's moving in slow motion.

But that's just my perception as I watch helplessly as the hammer heads straight from my thumb.

Of course, that's hyperbole.

It all happened so fast that there's no way I can catch the accident happen in real time.

All I know is the pain that comes afterward.

Son of a bitch! Yanking my hand back, I shake off the work glove and jam my thumb into my mouth,

hoping that will relieve the pain, even if just slightly. Well, crap. Looking the rest of the

roof over, I know I don't have the luxury of nursing my injury.

I need to get to the corrugated polypropylene panels nailed down in fast.

There's a storm on the horizon, and the wind is blowing my way.

With my thumb still throbbing, I slide my glove on, pick up my hammer, and get back to work.

Sixteen panels and seven hours later, I'm done replacing my cabin's roof, and just in time.

Exhausted, my arms like jelly, and my legs cramping, I turn and sit for a moment, admiring the oranges and pinks

that glow in a strip on the horizon just under the enormous thunder clouds. Flashes of lightning

add to the spectacular sight, and I smile in spite of what the storm foreshadows. Death. That's what's

coming. Pure, liquid death. I have maybe 40 minutes before the deluge

hits my little slice of the world. That's going to be barely enough time to get everything

secured and squared away. Yet I don't move from my spot. The beauty of the horizon is just too breathtaking.

And if there's one thing this world could use more of, it's beauty.

With that thought in mind, I managed to make my way to the ladder and climb down from

the roof.

...