Ann’s Weblog

I felt tired and woozy from the time I got up this morning. It seemed an effort just to put one foot ahead of the other.

I’d been feeling guilty because Gary was outside splitting wood by hand (he’s ordered a hydraulic wood-splitter, and will be thrilled when it arrives!), so when he started throwing it into our basement, I got busy stacking it downstairs. I felt better for getting the exercise.

 Later, when G. went to town to get his trucked worked on, I thought I’d just bloody well force myself to do some of the flower gardening tasks. After digging, planting, weeding for a couple of hours, I set about to cleaning up the mess I’d made… piles of weeds and sod and thinned-out perennials. The  whole task seemed daunting, again, as it did in the spring: “how do the weeds take right over even in places I made tidy such a short time ago?” When I thought about what there is still left to do before freeze-up, and that I seem unable to work as hard for as long, I felt overwhelmed.

Too much, too much, too much. I was exhausted to the point of tears, having not done a good day’s work.

I put the trash from weeding into the wheelbarrow and ferried it over to one of our compost heaps, thinking I’d treat myself to time surfing the ‘net, answering emails and chatting, though the weather was still pleasant and the day, young. As I tipped the wheelbarrow, somehow my shoe caught the corner of a piece of plywood lying on the ground (where I had it for a purpose), I lost my balance and fell upon a “little red wagon” that was overturned nearby. Because the wagon was upside down, the steel chassis was what I landed upon, and THEN the wheelbarrow tipped onto me!

The effect of this fancy maneuver was that I was in some pain from my right hip and thigh, and somehow the wheelbarrow had hooked itself on the framework of the wagon. I couldn’t, for a moment, move or even see why I seemed “trapped”! Considering that I was alone on the acreage, I had to get myself out of that pickle, WHILE completely “losing it”: screaming, crying and swearing. I can’t think of any human who has witnessed such a performance on my part (no, not childbirth).

Eventually, I extricated myself from the mess, and sniffling and limping, made my way into the house. Then, I felt I had truly earned a hot shower, tea, and some TV viewing and haven’t done anything except prepare supper since. I think chocolate cheesecake for dessert helped.

Here I am… hip bruised (though well padded: could’ve been worse!), feeling much less sorry for myself, and chatting to you. It was a “trying” day but no longer a “down” day, pardon the pun. Tomorrow I have more of the same kind of work planned, without the falling down part, and I even have a pedicure scheduled. Ah, certainly life ain’t so bad.

~Ann