That's what every bone in my body is telling me to do.
Screw the work that needs to be done tomorrow. The rivers are dropping and tomorrow is my last shot to fish until the last week in January. Making the decision would be so much easier if some of that snow had fallen on the west side of the rainshadow.
After writing this, I'm sure that hauling and spreading bark can wait until February. Procrastination wins by a landslide.
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