As Pax and I were riding/running to Sandy Beach I kept looking over my shoulder and thinking, "Pax, this is something you don't want to see." Fortunately, he didn't look back, so we got to the beach, went for a swim, and moseyed on our return route as usual. But, just about when we got to Donna and Al's place, Pax twigged to the threat and scrammed for home. When I caught up to him he was under a bed.

Alas, his exertions were for naught. The thunder-cell grumbled on by to the north giving us nothing more than a few score of big fat drops and a lot of lovely clouds and noise.

For all intents and purposes, we have finished trimming out the upper deck. Anyone looking at it would say, "Why, a one-armed paper hanger could do that in 20 minutes." Alas, again, that's probably true, although it took us the better part of three good days. In our defense I will not bring in old age or incompetence, but rather, meticulousness, instead.