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I sat in my room and I drew up a plan
May. 1st, 2005 03:05 pmNice to be out of Seattle for a little while. I love my life and I love my friends, but after helping a couple of friends move, and help various others through emotional hard times, I was getting a little burnt out on people, frankly. Needed to step back and stop playing superhero for a little while, at least.
My sister Cheryl and her husband Bill are off to see the Kentucky Derby, which is what Cheryl wanted to do for her birthday, apparently. I'd no idea she had any interest in that sort of thing, but there you are. And here I am -- house- and cat-sitting for a couple of weeks.
They've left me with an overwhelming To Do list of yardwork and landscaping -- all of which they're willing to pay me for, which is nice -- and they've told me they don't expect me to do everything, that I could just pick and choose what I wanted.
So, of course, this being me, my current plan is:
I do realize this is kind of nuts. C'est la vie.
So far, I've pruned some undergrowth, moved a truckload of wood to its proper place and stacked it into a woodpile, and dug a fifty-foot trench. Well, kind of a one-sided trench -- I turned the gentle slope along one side of their property into a tiny little cliff, so I can build a small retaining wall with concrete blocks.
The first day the digging went easy. "Gosh!" I thought to myself, "I'm glad the ground over here isn't filled with rocks like the other side of the yard was!"
Never think like that. That's only asking for trouble. The ground I was trying to dig yesterday wa stuffed full of rocks, averaging about the size of a softball. Bloody exhausting.
Today I finished up the woodpile, and then moved on to something far more enteraining -- taking a weed-whacker to the shade garden. The shade garden had completely grown over, plants and weeds up to my waste, and the mandate I'd been given was to take the weed-whacker and kill indiscriminately. Weeds, flowers, rhubarb, all of it. It's all going to be turned over into the soil with a roto-tiller. (By me, if I get to it.) Great fun watching it all disappear under my electric scythe. I somehow resisted the urge to start shouting "Exterminate! Exterminate!"
I'm tired, sweaty, sore, and I don't feel like I'm ever going to be clean again -- but with all the intangibles I deal in day to day, there's something very soul-restoring about doing all this work with my hands.
My sister Cheryl and her husband Bill are off to see the Kentucky Derby, which is what Cheryl wanted to do for her birthday, apparently. I'd no idea she had any interest in that sort of thing, but there you are. And here I am -- house- and cat-sitting for a couple of weeks.
They've left me with an overwhelming To Do list of yardwork and landscaping -- all of which they're willing to pay me for, which is nice -- and they've told me they don't expect me to do everything, that I could just pick and choose what I wanted.
So, of course, this being me, my current plan is:
- Do Everything.
- This will impress Cheryl.
- This will get me the most money.
- Do It All As Fast As Possible.
- Won't have to worry about the weather staying nice.
- Can relax and enjoy the rest of my "vacation."
- Won't have to worry about deadlines once it's all finished.
I do realize this is kind of nuts. C'est la vie.
So far, I've pruned some undergrowth, moved a truckload of wood to its proper place and stacked it into a woodpile, and dug a fifty-foot trench. Well, kind of a one-sided trench -- I turned the gentle slope along one side of their property into a tiny little cliff, so I can build a small retaining wall with concrete blocks.
The first day the digging went easy. "Gosh!" I thought to myself, "I'm glad the ground over here isn't filled with rocks like the other side of the yard was!"
Never think like that. That's only asking for trouble. The ground I was trying to dig yesterday wa stuffed full of rocks, averaging about the size of a softball. Bloody exhausting.
Today I finished up the woodpile, and then moved on to something far more enteraining -- taking a weed-whacker to the shade garden. The shade garden had completely grown over, plants and weeds up to my waste, and the mandate I'd been given was to take the weed-whacker and kill indiscriminately. Weeds, flowers, rhubarb, all of it. It's all going to be turned over into the soil with a roto-tiller. (By me, if I get to it.) Great fun watching it all disappear under my electric scythe. I somehow resisted the urge to start shouting "Exterminate! Exterminate!"
I'm tired, sweaty, sore, and I don't feel like I'm ever going to be clean again -- but with all the intangibles I deal in day to day, there's something very soul-restoring about doing all this work with my hands.
