Rocks, Paint and Pain

 I have been recovering from my toothache, which was accompanied by my headache, so my knee decided to act up as well, then my hip and sciatic nerve must have been jealous because it joined in on the fun. Rain and winds and weird formations in the sky occurred as well to make my hands and one of my toes ache incessantly.

I was a hot mess, but being a hot mess does not exclude one from their daily responsibilities. As you all know, I have The Patient to take care of. He is out of pain pills, but, to his credit, he did offer the last one to me. Being wise beyond my considerable years, I did not partake of the offering. I knew full well that I would never hear the end of his generosity. Instead I took Tylenol and Ibuprofen and I soldiered on.

While The Patient is busy being a pain in my a$$, I decided to make my escape to the great outdoors and get started on removing all the vegatation from the shallow ditch and replace it with rock. Where, you might wonder am I getting enough rock for this task? In peaceful solitude I am picking them up out of the "yard" by my She Shed. Sometimes in handfuls, sometimes one by one. Progress is slow. Am I insane, you might be asking yourself? 

The rocks get caught in the blades of the mower and fly out like missiles of destruction. Since I shot that phillips head screw into my calf in my previous life at the campground, I am very aware of removing obstacles that might want to engage with the mower blades. So, I have been raking the rocks into piles everytime I mow. Everytime it rains, more rocks are purged up to ground level and sometimes I just bend over and pick them up.

I figure I have enough to put a considerable dent in my project. Oh, I know it can be mowed or weed whacked by The Patient. The slope of the driveway makes it labor intense to mow it and I encounter rocks there, as well. Parts of the ditch are deeper and narrower than others and I can't maneuver the mower to get them. The Patient has yet to hold the weed eater in his hands this year and the grass in the ditch will go to seed and blow those weed seeds into my garden. When I am done, it will never need to be mowed again!

I do realize that The Patient has undergone surgery three times in less than 9 months. He does have a valid excuse. But, to be honest, he doesn't care what the ditch down the drive looks like. I do, so, I will fix it.

I am also unloading the tiniest shed to paint the interior with some oops paint I found at either Lowes or Walmart. Biege, nothing exciting, but it will offer up clean walls. This particular shed is sealed up well enough that I am going to use one end to put one of those portable closets in to hold out of season clothes and blankets. It will only take up 30" of space, leaving plenty of room to install a work surface for The Patient to play with stained glass.

The rest of my time has been spent fighting my headache. Yesterday, the "toothache" resolved itself. It was an abcess under the gum line. How can a tooth hurt that has no nerves? I can chew again. Yay.

The Patient continues to sleep too much and complain. He is not walking like he should be and nothing I say or do can convince him to do other wise. He is keeping his leg bent and when he does navigate from the recliner to the bathroom or the bed, he relies heavily on the cane and uses his toes to maintain balance. Says his calf hurts. That muscle will contract and he will continue to hurt unless he stretches it out and gets some exercise to that muscle. I am not Susan, though, and he will not listen. It is his leg and if he ends up needing rehab to stretch that muscle, he will find out just what pain he can be in!

Will I tell him he should have listened to me? Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how mean I am feeling!