Several weeks ago I wrote up a woodpile report. It had been a bad week with standard blues music luck and excessive general consternation. The post was 666 words of black depression. Who needs that? I decided not to post it.
Here’s a much shorter (but just as accurate) version:
Hot humid weather… tough working conditions… Blah blah blah…
Lined up help. Help bailed. Woe is me.
Plenty of wind-thrown wood. Big mess. Logs on the ground. Some logs bucked up, some not, some split, some not. Man I’m tired.
Crivens! I kicked meself in ma ain heid!
Arm injured but not seriously. Blah blah blah…
No wood split or stacked. Blah blah blah…
Beer.
Adaptive Curmudgeon 
The ‘Beer’ part was really good. Maybe you need to expand on that.
Sorry to hear about your injury. At least the jenga pile didn’t tumble whilst you were in its midst? Although I would posit that what you described is more “pick-up sticks” than “jenga pile”
Hope you’re doing better soon. Ducky wants his food…
}:-]
We’ll, at least there was beer.