Yard Work

Picked up a nail on a construction site and for what has to be the tenth time in the last 365 days, I had a flat.

Kathy made that announcement on Thursday night, and I turned it into a decision.

“I’m going to get the flat fixed, and coming home. A day off.”

Kathy laughed.

“Seriously, I’ll leave the phone on, but just hang around here.”

Took a look around.

The yard is a mess from the long winter and miserable spring.

18 bags of mulch later, and after mowing the lawn and weed whacking and cleaning up the garage, I came into the house.

I could barely walk, and standing up straight brought shards of pain.

“You’re a moron,” Kathy said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“The yard looks better.”

It’s a once a year soreness and ache that comes with cleaning up the yard, but it’s getting harder every year to stand up straight.

Grabbed the ice pack and we caught an episode of the new Jon Hamm show.

“There’s not going to be a lot of movement tomorrow if I’m going to make the tee time on Sunday.”

“Sucks getting old,” Kathy said.

And that’s the thing, as I was lugging the bags of mulch and moving things around, I didn’t give a single thought as to my age or possibly being sore for the next little while.

I worked like I was 25 years old…

…never once thinking of the consequences.

“You’re a moron,” is now ringing in my ears.