.: dig it :.
When a problem comes along, You must whip it
...talk about nasty piles, she-who-must-be-obeyed organised for a nice man from a landscape place to deliver some soil at 9am [after some "generous" calculations regarding the volume of the great wall garden bed] we settled on 5 cubic metres, little knowing how big a pile that was until a dump truck arrived an hour early "sorry mate, was already loaded and thought i would just come on over" ...bastard!!! [greeting a workman in my jammies is not a good plan] only to dump it in the driveway [fortunately we had the car out, else it would have been entombed].
We had recently purchased a new blue wheelbarrow [blue ones work better, we had an old orange one and the only thing it successfully did was rust] and a nice square mouthed shovel, designed for shifting loose soil [am gradually learning that when there is a job to do, the right tool can make that job easier].
Before the cream sits out too long, You must whip it
...so I conned the son into helping, by asking, thankfully he said yes - for the most part, he did most of the shovelling and I did most of the lugging, made a ramp out of an old hardwood plank [lots of old timbers in the joists under the house - mrs scum would beside himself, bless his little woody heart] and all but once managed to navigate the laden barrow up the ramp into the bed [the surrounding lawn needed top-dressing neways, right?]. Filled the bed [much deeper than originally planned, but i figure it will settle] and have stockpiled the excess for topdressing the back lawn when the grass is actively growing later in the year - all good, covered the stockpile so that cat doenae use it as her personal toilet. Pies and beers on the back deck for lunch, bewdy. Now just allowing my muscles to congeal and set in contorted shapes ... applied icepack onto the neck but back, arms and knees all reporting in, confirming the recent campaign will yield many casualties ... you get that [well, I do]
When something is going wrong, You must whip it
... are we not men? we are devo! Don the plastic flowerpot and jiggle on the spot in a spazzy sort of a way [I blame 80s music for my inability to dance, gotta point the bone at something now dont I?]
...talk about nasty piles, she-who-must-be-obeyed organised for a nice man from a landscape place to deliver some soil at 9am [after some "generous" calculations regarding the volume of the great wall garden bed] we settled on 5 cubic metres, little knowing how big a pile that was until a dump truck arrived an hour early "sorry mate, was already loaded and thought i would just come on over" ...bastard!!! [greeting a workman in my jammies is not a good plan] only to dump it in the driveway [fortunately we had the car out, else it would have been entombed].We had recently purchased a new blue wheelbarrow [blue ones work better, we had an old orange one and the only thing it successfully did was rust] and a nice square mouthed shovel, designed for shifting loose soil [am gradually learning that when there is a job to do, the right tool can make that job easier].
Before the cream sits out too long, You must whip it
...so I conned the son into helping, by asking, thankfully he said yes - for the most part, he did most of the shovelling and I did most of the lugging, made a ramp out of an old hardwood plank [lots of old timbers in the joists under the house - mrs scum would beside himself, bless his little woody heart] and all but once managed to navigate the laden barrow up the ramp into the bed [the surrounding lawn needed top-dressing neways, right?]. Filled the bed [much deeper than originally planned, but i figure it will settle] and have stockpiled the excess for topdressing the back lawn when the grass is actively growing later in the year - all good, covered the stockpile so that cat doenae use it as her personal toilet. Pies and beers on the back deck for lunch, bewdy. Now just allowing my muscles to congeal and set in contorted shapes ... applied icepack onto the neck but back, arms and knees all reporting in, confirming the recent campaign will yield many casualties ... you get that [well, I do]
When something is going wrong, You must whip it
... are we not men? we are devo! Don the plastic flowerpot and jiggle on the spot in a spazzy sort of a way [I blame 80s music for my inability to dance, gotta point the bone at something now dont I?]
| Feeling | :: | relaxed |
| Watching | :: | "Doctor Who" new series - w00t! |
| Reading | :: | "Across the Nightingale Floor" - determined to finish it this time [third attempt, local library not understanding, you get that] |
| Hearing | :: | snippets of new MUSE album ... gotta buy it soon |
| Accessed | :: | 1981 times so far, not that anyone is counting. |
derk 1. (n.) To be both a jerk and a dork at the same time. A jerk-foolish person.
2. (n.) Someone who presses a pedestrian crossing button more than once, or after someone has already pressed it, having the idea that it will make the lights change faster.
2. (n.) Someone who presses a pedestrian crossing button more than once, or after someone has already pressed it, having the idea that it will make the lights change faster.