Restoration

Let me tell ya, it was more than just a bruised ego after tumbling down those stairs early Monday morning.  Yes, I've felt the wonders of a bruised ass, which seemed to manifest itself around 4:00 every day this week.  I knew that days of being on my feet were not going to help the situation, but I guess I didn't realize that even ample padding on the arse won't protect all those moving joints in there.  I was feeling O-L-D by late afternoon, with a dull throb that turned into a screaming of the hip joints by the time I was limping out of work.  Yup, screwed something up in there, and the madness of total chaos at work was not helping the situation any.

This kind of shit really pissed me off.  Typically, I'm the person at work doing the hauling and heavy lifting.  Yes, everyone does their share, but when random heavy duty things come up, I'm the person doing it.  It's the norm for me, and I don't mind it.  What I DO mind is pain building so much that by the end of a work day, I was begging my niece to change the water jug on the cooler, a simple task that I never thought twice about before the ass-tumbling.  Suddenly, I was faced with my body just saying NO, and that does not happen.  I am used to work days where I go home exhausted, feet aching from standing all day, bone tired from moving, hauling, and rearranging.  But this was different.  This was pain so bad I felt like crying when I walked out the door.  Pain that made me feel like dragging one leg behind me because it just didn't want to work anymore.  That does NOT happen.

Well guess what, miss prissypants...it happened.  And I was coming home every night with the oodles of yard work just MOCKING me as I hobbled in to the house.  The perfect weather just added insult to the injury and by late in the week, I was muttering "fuck you" to the weeds staring me down.  I was managing to get some kind of dinner in my stomach every night before soaking up a hot spray in the shower and gulping down pills, and that was summing up my nights in a nutshell.  The house got messier, laundry piled up, and the act of picking up a bobby pin off the floor made me want to scream.  I avoided looking outside the open windows, so I wouldn't feel the now Jurassic Park sized weeds taunting me.

There's a brick path somewhere under there.

I was grouchy.  With a capital G.  In bold, italic 36 point font. 

Fortunately, along with the usual chaos and mayhem at work, the bookwork piled up.  And piled.  And piled.  So much that even with all the pricing needing done, it was time for me to address it.  Which meant sitting on my ass for the day Friday.  As much as one can sit on their ass in that place, but apparently, it was just what the doctor ordered.

My ass rejoiced.  Though it's mind numbing work and makes me feel like a zombie, I finally walked out of work that evening without the screaming pain.

It's about goddamn time.

This of course, resulted in Saturday dawning with new hope.  Hope of tackling the zen garden.  Because the zen had been devoured by weeds.  First, I got a wild hair up my ass and tackled the file cabinet and played with the paper shredder.  I have no clue what even started that chore...maybe it was looking for the college billing, and not being able to see past the last four years of bank statements.  But, after shredding to my heart's content, it was outside I went. 

I managed to finish painting the windows for the tree stump/troll house project, and with that little chore finally done, I was motivated like a mofo.

You know the weeds are bad when you have to actually take your pruning shears to some of them instead of pulling.

The stars were aligned perfectly.  The weather was warm and sunny, but not overbearing.  The neighbor's dogs weren't wandering.  The other neighbor wasn't having a hillbilly gathering with horrid music to infiltrate the zone I was in.  Children weren't screaming, crazy man wasn't ranting and being hauled off to the mental institute.  Even the mosquitoes left me alone...mostly.

Apparently, weed growing is good for strawberries.  Strawberry plants that I have given up on since they were planted eight years ago.  Usually the birds get to them before I do, so now they're just pretty little plants taking up space between flowers.  But birds must not like weeds anymore than I do, because I found a small handful of them as I was pulling and chopping. 

Haven't gotten around to cleaning that table yet, slacker.

The pulling and chopping was bittersweet, as I realized that the final blooms are just that...final.  My early autumn blooms are popping out, with everything else starting to brown and die off.  Not quite the full arrival of fall, but it's hinting at it.  Throwing out reminders that these perfect days are now approaching their final countdown.  Reminding me to clean out the firepit so we can actually use it this year, thought it's starting to look closer and closer to the burn pile that is now a gigantor mass of weeds and withered crap just waiting to be doused in gasoline.  Burn, baby, burn.

That's gonna be a big ass fire.  BOOM.

After the discovery of an ant infestation/swarm/grossout factor, I began to see light at the end of the tunnel.  Could have been that the four foot high weeds were finally allowing sunlight in, but I like to think it was the motivation I needed to withstand the sudden swarming of mosquitoes and finish the zen garden, so I can enjoy it for the last short months of outdoor peace.

Gross, especially when you realize you've grabbed handfuls of the swarming little fuckers.

There are still plenty of Jurassic weeds waiting for my destruction, since there are still plenty of flowerbeds surrounding this house, but the zen garden has actually found it's zen again.  Appropriate that the resurrection lilies are blooming, since I felt a smidge of resurrection myself, trading the butthurt (literally) for the ache of several hours of crawling around on my hands and knees yanking like a madwoman.  Well worth the aches, since I now have my place of restorative relaxation back.

Resurrection lilies, aka Naked Ladies  *immature giggle*

Munching on berries.  Contemplating life.  Without any corpses in the trees.

Zen restored.