Wednesday, May 2, 2012

The Masochistic Art of Weeding (Will I Ever Stand Upright Again?)

Indie Authors spend a great deal of time sitting on their ass writing, proofing, planning, and promoting.  Trust me, I realize that somehow I need to find time to exercise if I don't want to become so fat that my husband needs a crane to move me from my laptop to my recliner.

I ride an exercise bike 30 minutes a day every weekday and walk 2 miles a day at least five days a week, too. Muscle pain is always with me, so I load up on either Tylenol or Advil (neither work that great) before walking.

So, what is the deal with hurting like a, well, you know...just because I did some weeding this week?  Yowser! Yes, it is that time of year again.  The time where I go out and use Preen in all the areas around shrubs and our pool, plus under where the two huge pines are in back.  Ooops.  Where they were.  They are now gone, but grass is not yet back.
Because it has been wet, I did not get out there before some weeds came. For some masochistic reason we all believe that putting rocks around shrubs will prevent weeds.  Wrong. The weeds come anyway, pounding through the plastic barrier. They should invent a Viagra with as much hard force for those older gents who want to get the job done well, (hell, even the younger ones) but I digress. Nothing says "idiot" quite like having to pull weeds with little rocks surrounding each of them.

Yes, I should wear gloves.  No, I don't.  I can't work with them on.  So my hands get cut from the rocks, black from the dirt and the neighborhood learns several new, creative ways to combine filthy curse words.  Hey, I am not an author for nothin'.

Down on my knees for hours, bending, stooping, pulling, shaking preen like an ancient medicine man shaking a talisman over the afflicted...hours later I am still not done.  Nope.  I have the area where the pines were left.  I just don't know if I will be able to kneel down there and get back up! In the front I was lying full length to reach under some shrubs and felt my ribs separating in ways that only a medieval torture device should be able to accomplish. 

It is hell getting old.  Can somebody say condo?

It has been too cold and rainy to enjoy our flowering crab (which is now done flowering) or the lilacs that have been blooming this week.  Today is supposed to be nice, so I will sit by them and proofread.  I want at least one day of my second favorite spring scent surrounding me.  My favorite is the mock orange blossoms that will come in a few weeks.  Everything is very early this year.

Stiff, sore, and crabby I went to bed last night.  It was raining, so I opened the window a crack.  Ah.  Oh, yeah. That is one of my favorite spring events.  A good, old fashioned thunderstorm, playing out it's symphony while I go to sleep. It almost made the weeding all worth while.

But then I had to try to get out of bed this morning. Has anyone tried Cheerios with a good Cabernet replacing the milk?

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