Tilting at Windmills

Life is nasty, brutish, and short when your nose is to the grindstone. There is wood to chop; grain to mill; cloth to weave. Sure, you've got six (seven? who can keep track?) dependable if not-particularly-bright children who help with the chores. But then some misguided nut comes along and tears a hole in your sail with his lance. Use your limited energy wisely to keep your windmill from falling into ruins, season after season.