For a few months, off and on, I've been crawling around under the house, raising up one pier at a time. The back half of the house had developed a slight sag.
My horror.
My eggs would skid to the back of the pan.
The after.
I shall miss hanging out with my little friends under the house.
Even small victories ought to be savored, preferably served over homemade bread with fig preserves...
