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farming in the dead of winter; [OTA]
Who: Jimmy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thishurts) & YOU
What: Jimmy setting up his little farm
When: Early-Mid December
Where: Library, Around Town and in the Farmlands, and at his own Farm
Warning(s): dyslexia frustrations and depression mentions
[I've got problems; Not just the ones that are little]
Jimmy’s never been much for reading.
But getting an AI to read him websites out loud really isn’t much of an option anymore. And if he wants to pull any of this off he’s going to have to do this the hard way.
And he hates that, he really does.
He’s in the library. Gritting his teeth. He’s tried to pick out the easiest books he’s been able to find on animal husbandry. He really has. He even has a small notebook next to him, trying to take notes on the important bit like he’s in high school again, like he’s going to be tested on it.
Jimmy can’t even remember the last time he actually applied himself, put in effort into something he wanted to do, and now that he’s actually trying? It’s fucking hard. And discouraging.
The words on the page muddle together like fucking soup and his eyes are exhausted. He sighs. Slams the book shut. Resists the urge to throw the damn thing. He rests his hands in his forehead.
Later he’ll end up checking out a few of these books. For now, he’ll continue to struggle a bit longer.
[It's those people problems; That's something to consider]
You may see Jimmy in various parts of town around the Winter acquiring different things. Mostly purchasing livestock, from the looks of it. Not the whole Noah’s Ark by any means, but certainly enough. Though unless you know Jimmy, you’re unlikely to notice the trend, and honestly, it’s not as if the man stands out by any means.
Or really has any friends to speak of.
Because he doesn’t.
Not many, anyway.
He purchases goats, a few hens, and two bunnies over the course of two weeks, arranging transportation for said animals in the process. You’ll find Jimmy walking across town, one end to the other, carrying individual hens in his arms trying to make sure they don't just fly away, rabbits tucked into his winter coat with their heads sticking out, and at one point pulling the goats behind himself on leads fashioned out of rope.
It’s all going about as well as it sounds it would.
[When you come for dinner at my place]
It wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s brightest idea to set up a new farm in the dead of winter. He’s realizing this now as he’s in his front lawn, trying to fix up the fence around his property. His animals are presumably inside his own home as he’s out with a hammer and nails in hand, a few boards at his feet, hammering away.
His hands are numb and aching. It’s so damn cold out. But surprisingly, this feels, good? He feels good. It feels good to do something with his own hands. His fence looks like fucking shit, frankly, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s fixing it with his own two hands. It’s tangible results that he can see, in real time, and honestly, he’s impressed with how good it actually feels to be doing something with himself.
It beats the hell out of any job he’s done so far. And it certainly beats the hell out of sitting around in the Oak & Iron, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, napping the days away.
This feels good. It feels important. Right. If you would have told him a few months ago that he’d be content working on a farm, Jimmy would have laughed. But now. Now? It was starting to feel like an actual real possibility that he might enjoy this kind of work.
thishurts) & YOUWhat: Jimmy setting up his little farm
When: Early-Mid December
Where: Library, Around Town and in the Farmlands, and at his own Farm
Warning(s): dyslexia frustrations and depression mentions
[I've got problems; Not just the ones that are little]
Jimmy’s never been much for reading.
But getting an AI to read him websites out loud really isn’t much of an option anymore. And if he wants to pull any of this off he’s going to have to do this the hard way.
And he hates that, he really does.
He’s in the library. Gritting his teeth. He’s tried to pick out the easiest books he’s been able to find on animal husbandry. He really has. He even has a small notebook next to him, trying to take notes on the important bit like he’s in high school again, like he’s going to be tested on it.
Jimmy can’t even remember the last time he actually applied himself, put in effort into something he wanted to do, and now that he’s actually trying? It’s fucking hard. And discouraging.
The words on the page muddle together like fucking soup and his eyes are exhausted. He sighs. Slams the book shut. Resists the urge to throw the damn thing. He rests his hands in his forehead.
Later he’ll end up checking out a few of these books. For now, he’ll continue to struggle a bit longer.
[It's those people problems; That's something to consider]
You may see Jimmy in various parts of town around the Winter acquiring different things. Mostly purchasing livestock, from the looks of it. Not the whole Noah’s Ark by any means, but certainly enough. Though unless you know Jimmy, you’re unlikely to notice the trend, and honestly, it’s not as if the man stands out by any means.
Or really has any friends to speak of.
Because he doesn’t.
Not many, anyway.
He purchases goats, a few hens, and two bunnies over the course of two weeks, arranging transportation for said animals in the process. You’ll find Jimmy walking across town, one end to the other, carrying individual hens in his arms trying to make sure they don't just fly away, rabbits tucked into his winter coat with their heads sticking out, and at one point pulling the goats behind himself on leads fashioned out of rope.
It’s all going about as well as it sounds it would.
[When you come for dinner at my place]
It wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s brightest idea to set up a new farm in the dead of winter. He’s realizing this now as he’s in his front lawn, trying to fix up the fence around his property. His animals are presumably inside his own home as he’s out with a hammer and nails in hand, a few boards at his feet, hammering away.
His hands are numb and aching. It’s so damn cold out. But surprisingly, this feels, good? He feels good. It feels good to do something with his own hands. His fence looks like fucking shit, frankly, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s fixing it with his own two hands. It’s tangible results that he can see, in real time, and honestly, he’s impressed with how good it actually feels to be doing something with himself.
It beats the hell out of any job he’s done so far. And it certainly beats the hell out of sitting around in the Oak & Iron, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, napping the days away.
This feels good. It feels important. Right. If you would have told him a few months ago that he’d be content working on a farm, Jimmy would have laughed. But now. Now? It was starting to feel like an actual real possibility that he might enjoy this kind of work.
no subject
When offered a break, he nods. "Coffee's fine." He says. Who the fuck drinks tea anyway? British people? No one he grew up around drank tea, and now Jimmy takes his coffee just like his dad used to. Black.
no subject
"Please, have a seat," Bart offers, gesturing toward the simple wooden table set back against the wall in his kitchen. A pair of earthenware mugs are prepared with filters that are heaped with coffee ground to be poured over with boiling water from his little kettle. While he waits for that, he turns back to Jimmy. "Thank you again for your help. I appreciate the extra pair of hands. What did you do before you got here?" He could see Jimmy doing some kind of maintenance or handyman work.
no subject
"Lots of different stuff." He lies. Well, it's not entirely a lie. Of course his stint on the Tulpar was his longest running job, but before that he really did just do anything that would hire, and subsequently fire him. "I was in shipping the longest." He clarifies a bit. That's been his go to. He doesn't have to say what kind of shipping, that it was in space, just none of that. It's easy and doesn't connect him to the rest of the Tulpar crew at all.
no subject
Bart nods in acknowledgement. Sometimes you moved through different occupations to find out what you wanted to be, after all. "A little experience in a lot of things is good, I think. It means you can be more flexible in the way you approach future projects. I've had to be a bit more specialized, but I was lucky that I arrived here at a time when such a thing would be helpful. Biological study is important when records have been lost." Also not explaining that his specialty is in spacefaring projects.
The kettle is taken off the stove and the water poured over the coffee when it has just started to whistle. The larger mug is handed over while it steams and brews.
"It occurs to me I should ask, do you prefer Jimmy, or James?"