Today it is sunny and in the 70s. Spring here is gorgeous and oh so welcome, because less than two weeks ago we had this:
Since then, the city sent skip loaders to haul away all of that heavy tree debris from the curb. The sun melted the snow. Saturday looked good for raking the twigs out of the lawn and getting the yard back to normal.
It turned out to be a bigger job than expected. Hours of raking and worst of all the stoop labor of getting all the crud into paper yard waste bags, which either fold up and refuse to take the junk you’re putting in them or rip apart once you get it in.
<–I filled eight bags with the stuff. Raking the planter beds meant rocks followed the twigs, and had to be picked out of the piles and thrown back. Stoop, stoop, stoop. I think back to my younger days in California, and remember a big fight to ban the short handled hoe and other tools that forced farm workers to ruin their backs.
Anyway, the job's done. I've stretched, taken a warm shower and some Ibuprofin.
Know what hurts? I'm a middle aged dad with a relatively healthy 19 year old son who's sitting in the house watching movies while I twist and compress my aging parts. One of the rewards of middle age dadhood should be the slave labor of a teen son. But the autistic guy won't put on work gloves due to his sensory issues. If he wore them, he could pick up the debris but he’d never get it into bags. I’d wind up having to rake and pick up all over again.
Meanwhile, Melissa can’t sit out in the sun and enjoy this blessed weather because if I’m out playing pick-up-sticks, she has to be in the house to watch the lad.
How doth care giving stinks? Let me count the ways.