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					Slim Randles' Home Country
 
            A fantasmaserious afternoon 
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            [April 02, 2021]  
			
			Windy 
			looked out the window. A great day for helping. Windy Wilson sets 
			one day aside each week for helping others, you see, and this was 
			helping day. | 
        
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			 Mrs. Morris, he thought, checking on the calendar. 
			Yes, Mrs. Morris’s poor ol’ shed that’s leaning dangerously to one 
			side. 
 “I can just whup over there today and see that gets fixated,” Windy 
			said, smiling. “By dark, she’ll have a perp-up-and-dicular shed she 
			can be proud of.”
 
 Windy talks like that. A lot.
 
 Armed with enough tools to recreate the city of Troy, Windy arrived 
			at Mrs. Morris’s house and set to work. He rigged a come-along to a 
			tree and used it to straighten the shed. Then, while he had it 
			straight up, he attacked it with bracing.
 
 
			
			 
			Mrs. Morris brought him coffee a couple of times, and later had him 
			in for lunch. Mr. Morris passed away several years ago, and some of 
			these bigger chores were beyond her abilities.
 Windy hadn’t asked Mrs. Morris about fixing the shed, because that’s 
			part of the fun for him. You just show up and do it. Do it until 
			it’s done. And … you do it right. Fortunately, Windy has always been 
			pretty handy with tools.
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            column] | 
            
			 By three o’clock, that shed was 
			up and braced, and several loose boards had been nailed back in 
			their homes again. He brought the can of paint out of his truck and 
			started painting it the same light green it had always been. Inside the house, Mrs. Morris 
			looked out upon the wonder of a reconditioned shed in her back yard. 
			She picked up the phone.
 “Mr. Johnson? This is Mrs. Morris. That’s right. Look, I know I’d 
			asked you to take down my old shed, but I’ve changed my mind. No, I 
			don’t think the old shed will fall on anyone. Thanks so much 
			anyway.”
 
 Nothing like a good helping day, Windy thought, rinsing out his 
			paint brush and dancing a little jig carrying the tools back to his 
			pickup. It has been what he’d call a fantasmaserious afternoon.
 
 Life is good.
 [Text from file received from 
			Slim Randles] 
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