Oh my gawd.
Can I just say that I am way too old to do the schlepping, digging, raking, bending over, dumping, trimming, and physically working thing. And can I also say, that my mother is almost 70 and she schlepps faster than me, harder than me. Well, everthing better than me. Plus, she’s cute.
My thighs ache, my arms ache, my feet scream out in pain when I set them on the floor, and my back? Well. My back. And the mud on my clothes? This is a long story. But it’s a good one. I just can’t write it now because I need to go die somewhere.
But oh, man, was it fun. You gotta like getting outside and working like a dog. Do dogs work?
The Moh is bringing me take out for dinner. I’m drinking flat sparkling wine from the superior dessert I made a couple of days ago (did you check out Sass & Veracity?) and I’m thinking chick films are in order this evening.
Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to have someone drag me up the stairs and roll me into the sack.
You go have your Saturday night, and we’ll talk tomorrow.
Wait for it.