Could it be that cleanliness is next to atrophy? Only in a very peculiar dictionary and, it seems, in my workshop.
Spring has evidentally sprung. Not only did I do my usual post-project tidy-up, even unto sharpening a few blades before putting their respective planes away, but some sort of fit overcame me and I vacuumed the floor. Even after having swept it first. To be fair that's because otherwise the workshop vac's hose blocks with iritating ease, and it still managed to do so three times as it was, but even so... So now the damn place is looking so tidy and sparkling (kind of) that I'm loathe to mess it up again by using it.
It's not as if I don't have A Plan either. The saw till doors beckon me ever closer and I almost know what I want to do about them. Slightly depressed by The Powers That Be's reaction to my musings on walnut and sweet chestnut though. "What's that for? The saw till? The workshop?! What?!" Well it's all good practice, isn't it? Apparently that argument doesn't wash awfully well so I steered the conversation away before we got onto why the beech planks were still stored in the guest room... Sometimes it's a lonely battle being a woodworker.