Picture Hanging

I think I'm turning into my Dad. He could never do any job without thinking on those who had gone before him. Loosening batons around old sash windows he would remark on the dead man's hands that had last accomplished that same job, so aware of his own mortality. A strange grave enjoyment came over him at such times. It wasn't a self-conscious thing - he just carried that 'mindset' (as they say these days) with him at all times. So when I hung one of the father-in-law's old pieces of marquetry up on the wall tonight, and had to re-adjust the string it just struck me, as it had done my Dad. No bad thing, I guess.
So, the wonder and miracle of life is borne anew, and you feel invigorated by it. Goddam, what am I on about? Anyway, these guys have started their blog after leaving last week. Dark scary waters. I'm not ready for that.