A few days ago, I started a project that I have been putting off for some time. Our Blacktop driveway has needed a sealcoating job for probably two years and I just dreaded doing it. It’s hard work but even if I had the money, I wouldn’t hire someone to do it. Sealcoating is the kind of job that you read about in the newspapers when the gypsies take advantage of old people and just spray on jello water or something else of that nature.
If I had a small city driveway, I wouldn’t have been dreading it but out here in the country, it takes a large driveway surface when you’re 600 feet off of the road.

I obviously don’t treat the gravel part but I do have to the place where I turn our RV around.
The umbrellas were set up by Riley Marie, who was so impressed with the new looking driveway, she thought we should have a picnic on it.
It took me about 15 hours to do the job along with 65 gallons of the sealcoating. It was much easier this time. Apparently the stuff has improved since the last time I did it about 7 years ago.
Like a lot of things, the sealcoat is manufactured in 4 or 5 versions; there’s the one year warranty, the 3 year, the 5, 8 and the 10. Each increment adds about five dollars to the cost of a five gallon bucket. I decided to go with the 10 year even though I might be wasting my money. I will be almost 80 years old when the driveway needs to be treated again. The damn thing may last longer than I do.

These were the clothes I wore to do the job. They’re now hanging in the barn while I decide what to do with them. The jeans are from my pre-heart surgery days so they don’t fit anymore. THEY’RE TOO BIG. I spent half my time pulling them up so I could walk without tripping over them. I also wanted to make sure the neighbors didn’t mistake me for Kanye West or some other hip-hop fool.
The shoes, interestingly enough are not very old. I bought them in Texas and started wearing them about the time my leg started hurting which ultimately led to the heart surgery later that year. I have always suspected the whole thing was the fault of the shoes. I’m glad they’re gone.
The little cat scratching post in the picture belonged to our cat, Winston, who was run over by some fast driving idiot, using up all nine of his lives. Susie bought it for him at a yard sale and I don’t think he ever got to use it. Life can be unfair at times.