Kind of lost...but in a good way.
You see, I'm not behind in my grading. I'm only a little behind in my housework, and that mostly because of an embarrassing turn of events causing the dryer to not dry the clothes. As in, we could tumble them all freakin' day, and they'd still come out damp enough to go sour if folded and put away.
Turns out that a box we'd tossed out the back door and never thrown away got blown up against the dryer vent, then rained on to the point that it...well, kind of melted, and blocked the vent shut.
In any case, it's all fixed, now, and it won't take long to get caught back up on laundry.
Maybe I can steal a few hours to go shooting, soon. I really need to, and I'd love to get some quality time with a good rifle in that (though I really need to focus on pistol--since my range times are so few and far between, I figure better shoot what I carry to make sure that it functions, and that I don't get so rusty it doesn't matter if the gun works or not). I just wish I could shoot my Mauser or my Mosin-Nagant. Love me some higher caliber bolt action rifle time. I wind up so relaxed that I feel boneless--in a good way, not the oh, my Lord, my shoulder is dislocated way.
Recoil pads are wonderful things. And they make really cool ones for women that slip under the shirt and Velcro to the bra strap.
Heh. That led to a funny occurrence, a couple of years ago. My imp's godfather has a brother-in-law who's a few beers shy of a sixpack. He saw me shooting that M44 carbine, didn't see a recoil pad, and asked if he could take a shot.
And it kicked the dog shit out of him. So, he shot it again.
My imp's godfather still giggles about how his brother in law complained about his shoulder turning purple for the rest of the weekend.
I suppose I need to save up for a smaller caliber bolt action rifle, so that I can enjoy shooting without having to worry about the front of my shirt getting soaked.
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