Monday, March 09, 2009

It's quite possible that by this time next week I will have lost my mind

The Tiny House's front yard is a hella mess right now, but even so, looks far better than it did at this time yesterday.

How could that be? Well, as a result of a surprise rototilling later yesterday afternoon by a finally fed-up-with-it Biff, the entire yard it is now a clumpy mass of earth chunks, snake grass leavin's, and wild onion funk; which is, as you might understand, highly preferable to the swarm of dead snake grass, wild onion sprouts, and swathes of indeterminate weed matter that had been there.

The problem at this point is not so much that it LOOKS awful,the issue is that all the dead and dying biomass needs to be raked OUT of the upturned earth and removed before any seeding can commence, which is proving to be a matter requiring much patience and intestinal fortitude to complete.

Therefore, due to a distinct LACK of gut strength, the raking-out-of-dead-crap is not complete. I have discovered that manual labor is not my actual real first love after all. Not that I ever thought it WAS, mind you, but I've never really been afraid of hard work and so thought that raking the yard and removing the undesirables would be far more satisfying than it's turning out to be. After about an hour, and a fifth of the yard properly raked out, I was so.totally.ready to call it quits and commence to relaxing.

Which, happily, is what happened. It's nice to have a partner in projects who accepts my overall level of TOTAL WUSSINESS.

Besides which, there were steaks to cook and happy funtime drinks to quaff. On a gorgeous Southern Spring evening, one must make the most of sunset, knowing full well that in a couple of months the only real operative word for conditions outdoors will be 'swelter.'


Got a call from a Doc here at work just a little bit ago. Apparently there is some kind of emergency writing exercise that must be undergone, and I'm the one who is being doniked on the keyboard to do it.

Nevermind that this project's been on the back burner for over two months while we waited for OTHER PEOPLE to get their shit together and decide how they want the study's now MY emergency. Sweet! You're jealous, right? Never mind that that other dozen things I'm doing are also important. Nossir - this hot potato has landed square in my cube and there's nobody else to throw that bastard to.

Oh yeah, and my boss asked me an hour earlier to take charge of another 'everything old is new again' hot topic project.

I had held out some vague hope that this was the week I'd actually be able to catch up on projects and put my professional feet firmly under me in order to climb up and over the mountains of 'to dos,' but I see now that this is not to be. No, instead that mountain will continue to slip under my scrabbling hands and feet as I try to keep it from all crashing down on me.

Yes, jealousy is the correct emotion you should be having when you think about what it must be like to be me.


In other news: My mother had a pacemaker put in over the weekend. Apparently this is now so routine that for most people it's considered an OUTPATIENT procedure.

Can you imagine? You get all Borgified in the morning and by dinner you're at home, planning out how to contact The Cube to let the leader know you're ready for your Regeneration Chamber to be activated.

(a variant of this joke did not go over well with my Mother. Seems she doesn't much care for being likened to a cybertronic being, the spoilsport. (Hi Mom!))

It's projected that this new addition to her armament will go a long way toward keeping her heart ticking along at a much more steady rate that it has been lately. Between bouts of racing heartbeat switching up with a pulse of 40 beats per minute, it's been something of a wild ride in Cardiac City for her. Here's hoping that the long nights in the ER, waiting for her system to moderate, are over.


It's another stunning day in the Triangle. I'd best go get my work done so I can go home at a decent hour to enjoy a bit of it.

While raking, of course.

Quitcher sniggering, and have a great afternoon.

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