I don't need hotflashes. I need Bengay. And Advil. And a hot bath. And some sympathy would be nice, too.
My WORD, Elijah and I have worked ourselves almost to death today. We worked in the garden a bit, raked some leaves (the ones from the fifty-eight Bajillion oak trees in the woods behind our house that, even though we rake three times in the fall, are STILL under the deck and in between the forsythia bushes at the back of the house in the spring. I'm telling you, someday I'm going to live IN the woods and never rake another leaf.), trimmed some hedges, dug out 8 or 10 unhealthy azaleas, went to the dump with said azaleas and various other trash, switched the battery from the truck to the van, hitched up the trailer and loaded it with all the lawn equipment, went down the street and cut the good doctor's 1.5 acres of grass, and somehow managed to clean up the kitchen and get two loads of laundry done. I think I deserve a medal! Or at least dinner that someone else has cooked. So that's what we're going to do. There's a Chili's bacon-burger calling my name. If you listen real closely you can hear it. . .
And now that I've gone back and re-read that last paragraph, I realize there is an unclear antecedent in my parenthetical phrase. It's not the fifty-eight bajillion oak trees that are under my deck, it's the LEAVES from them. Sorry for the confusion.
Tomorrow we have a list almost as long which includes, but is not limited to, mowing our own grass, spraying the walkways with Roundup, driving stakes around the garden (it's a long story and I'm trying to stay away from any more parentheticals, even though I just typed one), and fun with firewood, not to mention the usual school, reading, vision therapy, and a workout at the Y. I don't dare take two days in a row off.
If I'm not back in 24 hours, send out a posse.
Be thankful ~