working like a dog is super-awesome

Compare and contrast to working like a dog At Work, which is deeply unsatisfying. Go figure. If I was being paid for just living my life, and went in to do paperwork to get away from it all, would the fun swap over too?

Anyway. Thanks to my early and sober night last night, I was up and atom at half seven this morning. Hurrah! Coffee: on! Recipes: looked up! Steps and compost: assembled! Shopping list (yes, more shopping) : made! And now, to the Allittlement, Robin!

Before it was nine a.m., I was up a stepladder, industriously sawing large branches off trees. This was only partly because I wanted to get a wiggle on, and mainly because I wanted the flimsy excuse, should it turn out these were the Wrong branches (or even, the Wrong trees) that nobody saw me do it and they can’t prove it was me. You know, just cos I asked permission and they all overhang my plot and everything. It was very satisfying, if occasionally scary, like when I was clinging onto the spiky perimeter fence with one elbow and using all my weight to haul down on a big branch while I sawed at it. And then I spent a happy hour chopping em into manageable bits, harvested the cabbage and brambles one-handed while on the phone to Cake, and went home cos the rain was on. With my very first harvest of tomatoes. Six of em, not great for four plants, but still. They are Mine.

Right! More coffee! Bleaching the compost bins! Shredding the documents! Draining and cleaning the bath! And… back out to dig over two of the sunnier beds at the Allittlement so I can move the currants into em! I weeded one-handed while on the phone to me Chestnut-haired Old Mother, packed up and went home and showered. Hurrah, am now looking human enough to go to LIDL.

It’s odd, going down the road and watching everyone in hoodies and trackies warily for overt signs of Ned-dom, and then realising you decided to dress like that too in case it rained on your jeans.

Right! More coffee! (Damn I love this coffee pot, stays tepid all day!) Blanching the cabbage! Freezing the fruit! Shepherd’s pie! Veggie lasagne made out of stuff wot I actually grew! Dishes and more dishes! And now… finish that second corpse in that werewolf-and-corpse ensemble or die trying!

And lo, with these words, I immediately developed a big sinus infection out of nowhere. Pain and throbbing and Gerard Depardieu’s nose is back. I will say this only once: there was Pus. Eeek! Maybe this is what happens when you cut down branches that are over your head and all the bits fall in your nostrils; in which case, it could have been worse. And me sinuses have been faulty for ages – there is nothing quite like waking up in the dead of the night, in a flat you were alone in when you went to bed, to a noise like someone slowly releasing tiger-tail balloons in the next room. Corks! It is the Small hours, my neighbours are elderly! Clearly, a Psycho has Got In and is, for his own unfathomable reasons, letting off balloons. Eek! I wish someone else was here right now!

Then you realise the noise is coming from your sinuses, and wish someone else was here right now so you could ask if they can hear it too. (Hee, we did have a patient with tinnitus who swore that when her mate listened at her ear, she could hear the tinnitus too.)

However! By midnight, the ensemble was complete, I looked at what I had Wrought in triumph, and only then did I realise that it looks almost exactly the same as the last feckin’ instalment.


Right, enough of this. I have been hard at it for sixteen hours and am now thoroughly disgruntled with the whole shebang. Bed!


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in all the small things, allotmenting, doodling, forever coming down with something, I Make Thing!. Bookmark the permalink.

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