I did a little bit of physical work yesterday cleaning up the deck and patio...really not much...and my muscles hurt something terrible. I'm sure it didn't happen this fast last year. It was late afternoon and I'd been pretty busy all day so maybe that's why. It got me wondering again if I should stay in this house, though.
There is always work involved when you live in a house. Housework isn't a big problem for me because I live alone and I'm fairly neat so things don't get messed up fast. Gardening is a joy for me but cutting the grass is not. Nick is going to start cutting it this year for me and that is a bigger relief than I would have imagined. That will leave me free to play with my garden and just do some trimming now and then outside. I love to get out there and plant or transplant, bringing nature's color to my own little yard.
The sun has finally begun to shine, warming up the weather, and that will get me itching to buy the annuals. I just remembered that there is a huge hosta I need help digging out and transplanting...I hate needing that help, darn it.
Nick is coming over today to powerwash the deck and patio and that's why I wanted it cleaned up for him. I'm afraid I'll have to impose on him to dig up that hosta, too. He's my eldest grandson and one of the nicest young men in the world. I'm not prejudiced because he's my grandson, either.
I don't mind growing old and dealing with wrinkles and grey hair but I do not like losing physical strength. I'm hoping my soreness from yesterday isn't a sign that I'm getting too feeble to work in my garden. Now, that would really be a pain in the butt!
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