Surprise-surprise...here I am, sitting-pecking out a note of boredom with a bit of melancholy mixed in along with some old fashioned stupidness. Yep...that's right, I have a tale to tell...and you have come along for the ride.
Yesterday was hotter than Hades and probably just as about as uncomfortable too...though that's one mystery in life I hope I never have firsthand knowledge of.(Though I have meandered in the shadows there...)
We arose early yesterday morning, the intern and I (factually, he about an hour or so after I did...young people.) and began a myriad of chores that had to be done because:
A. It was not raining.
B. The ground was dry enough for some minor planting.
C. The temperature was hovering right around sweltering and fixing to rise.
D. Rain was forecast for the next several days, so we had to beat the band to get it* done. (*IT-Mowing,planting, weeding, harvesting,fixing the mail box, fixing the chicken coop,cleaning...so much to do, "it" was all paramount.
E. The tractor was leaving for a check up and oil change soon.
So, with this in mind I leapt at the opportunity to use my wheel hoe like a Samurai wields his sword. Weeds had not a prayer, for I was quite merciless in their exemption. And say what you like about weeding, it is just about the most therapeutic thing one can do on a farm...and it is alright to cuss while doing it, I have aligned. Cussing can be like prayer...it is a most sincere form of communication I find, when dealing with weeds and...
So- off I went on my little do-ten-things-at-once phase and I realized that the mail box *(see "Darn Kids" post...)had not truly been fixed properly. As the tractor was warming up (even in the heat, my manual says "let it get to one bar on the control panel before utilizing tractor") I thought to myself, "I'll just take 5 minutes with the drill and screws to really fix that thing proper!" So off I ran, Nicolas was by then mowing, Lily was emptying the clothes line for the next load...and I was going to conquer the mail box dilemma of falling over in it's current state if I didn't attach the box to the post more securely. As I was securing the last screw, I realized I had only been born with two good hands...and I really needed another to hold the damn mail box down for just a moment- but, the other hands(Lils and Nic) were doing their thing...didn't want to end that beautiful sight! In my infinite wisdom, I thought- Well hey! I've got two good strong legs, I'll just swing one over the top of this thing and hold 'er down and put in that last screw and by golly, I'll have this whipped! So over the top my long strong leg went, and in went the screw into the post and I was quite marveling at myself and this stroke of pure ingeniousness- I am woman, hear me....scream! Down I went, laughing-thinking Oh well, that didn't go at all like I planned! By then I realized- much like the victims of the Great White Shark in Jaws...Hey! Something hurts...and is bleeding... and is, oh my gosh! That looks like meat, and bone?! And oh what an idiot! I cannot afford to be hurt right now...I have too much to do...and I have to somehow get up there on the porch and act like everything is cool. But eagle eyed Nicolas saw the plunge...saw the smile...saw the dread...saw the blood...and then turned off the mower and chaperoned me right up there to the swing. Needless to say, a towel and pressure were applied to where the screw that I had just placed...ripped down my leg as I tumbled...a peroxide bath, and antibiotics and no feet business for awhile, only "bum" business...as in bummer. And then the downpour came, not from the clouds- but from my own "I am woman...hear me cry" not because I hurt, but because I hurt myself in more ways than one.
Stupid. Reallly. Not terribly clever. Knew better. Did it anyway. Yep. There's one for the books...
Maybe there's a reason we're bountifully blessed...with two good hands or a voice that can call out to another in time of need in deeds. Hands are to steady and fix a thing- and the two good legs?! That'd be the balance center, suppose to keep them firmly on the ground when using drill with big screws and wood. Yep.
Here's the moral of the story, folks...you heard it here first:
Hands to work, hearts to God...and keep your big feet under you, dumb ass.
Hmmmph! Take care-
(One more thought here...my favorite determining factor sometimes in deciding whether to do something or not, usually begins with the phrase, "OH WHAT THE HELL!" And I personally feel those are words to live by...except when power tools are involved-so remember...when facing a puddle, wondering whether you should try to jump over it...OR....when asked if you would like dessert, it is homemade...Or...the margarita's are buy one get one free today...OR...wow, your legs look really great in that skirt, you should buy it...Those are all symptoms that require a sure cure of...Oh what the hell!)