The Log Delivery

The Owner has had a very bad start to his day, in fact it started last night really. He was very busy ordering logs on the phone yesterday with the usual sense of urgency that is inspired from not ordering them in time and only thinking about it when he has run out. But the order was placed and he sat back in his chair by his desk with that confident smirk of one who has averted disaster. Or at lest, a chilly evening! Our journey home last night was a damp one and a dark one as he grumbled his way down the road to the cottage. He grumbled about puddles (if he would buy himself some new shoes he wouldn't notice the puddles), he grumbled about cars going to fast, he grumbled about cars not dipping their headlights. In fact he grumbled about almost everything really. I was really quite anxious to get home and indoors before we got to including me in his "everything" so I rushed up the garden path past the heap of logs left at the gate. He followed me quickly and by now the grumbling had included the state of the garden path, the leaking gutter and the Somali pirates. I am at a loss as to why the Somali pirates were getting put in their place but I was just glad it hadn't got to me yet.Once indoors and I had been fed he started to pace the floors and kept checking out the windows and then sighing a lot. Then Log Hoomun was the object of his ire in no small manner too. For apparently not delivering his wood! Well what was that we had walked past earlier?? We ended up with just two small logs in the grate and a firelighter, which lasted all of ten minutes. There was a lot of grumbling all evening until I was, frankly, glad he went to bed. This morning the grumbling continued about lack of logs until he stuffed his hands in his Barbour pockets and stomped off down the path, round the corner of the shed...... and fell over a heap of logs. Anxious not to lose any of the momentum he was building in the grumbling stakes now he realised they had been there since yesterday evening, he changed his grumbling to the subject of wet logs instead. From my vantage point under the desk I can notice a slight trickle of blood running down his shin from his trip over the log pile. I guess he has yet to notice that, he would be making far more of his injuries if he had. A day to keep out of the way I think, maybe the calf sheds would be my best option.