SwampMan will be undergoing surgery again tomorrow, so I’m in my usual presurgical freakout mode. I’m running around trying to get things done that must be done, but doing a little bit here, and a little bit there and “Ohmygawd, I forgot about THAT!” and running off to do something else. The net result, of course, that nothing is being done. Well, halfassedly, a lot is being done, but nothing is being completed.
SwampMan is coming home to complete chaos every day. There are holes in the lawn where I tried to transplant trees from where I do not want them to where I do, but the damn holes are filled with water because the lawn is still waterlogged, and it rains again tomorrow. I’ll be walking out there to feed the chickens one night, step in a disguised hole, and break my leg. And drown. Unless I knock myself out, like I nearly did last night by turning around and hitting an eye-level chicken roost with my eye. I knocked my glasses off into the mud, and I have an eyelid and side of my face that is scraped and purplish. So I could hit a chicken roost with my eye and drown tomorrow, or break my leg and drown tomorrow, so maybe I shouldn’t worry about SwampMan’s surgery much because I won’t be alive anyway.
“So, Swampie!” you may say. “Why dincha plant them there trees in the fall?” I’ve been freakin’ trying, that’s why! Just as soon as the water almost disappears from the top of the ground, it freakin’ rains AGAIN. Well, at least I didn’t have to hardly buy hay this year, so the rain was a blessing. I’ll not complain again. Until tomorrow.
Since it is a nice day today, the washer and clothesline are full of clothes. The carpet is about to be shampooed while it is dry and warm (it is supposed to go from dry and warm and temps in the 80s today to cold, blustery and highs in the 50s). Maybe that will be enough.