home comments edit

Sunday morning Jenn and I went out and worked in the back yard. There’s sort of a drainage issue along the north fence in our back yard, so we needed to widen the flower beds, till up the ground, and plant something in there that can stand living in a bog. To that end, we needed to rent a rototiller, which we got from Home Depot.

I’ve never rototilled anything. I’ve seen it done, and the guy at the store explained how the tiller works, but I’ve never actually personally done it.

Holy shit.

I mean, holy shit.

I’m a desk jockey. Seriously, I sit on my ass all day and the most strenuous it gets is me reaching from the keyboard to my coffee or getting up to walk to the car to go get lunch.

That rototiller damn near killed me. It reminded me a lot of running a garden-oriented jackhammer crossed with holding back an entire dog sled team single-handedly. All we had to do was an 18 foot by four foot section, and it was all I could do to get that done. I am a huge, huge pussy.

It’s worse today. Yesterday I thought I was feeling pretty bad. Today I feel horrible. Everything on me aches. I can barely turn my head. Reaching for my coffee hurts, so I’m just sort of looking at it longingly, hoping to develop telekinetic powers that will get the coffee from my cup into my mouth. I have bruises on my legs, but I’m not sure how I got them. I don’t remember hitting my shins with anything, but the bruises are there and they weren’t there pre-tiller. (What the hell were my shins doing anywhere near that thing? Are the bruises unrelated?) I can’t grip anything, either, because the insides of my arms hurt so bad when I close my hands. Stretching the elastic of my boxers to get them over my fat ass posed a serious threat this morning. I nearly had to call in due to inability to put on pants.

Anyway, I’m dying today, but the flower bed has been widened and tilled, so it’s ready for some plants to go in. Jenn picked some up from the nursery and will be putting those in tonight. Something grassy looking, but I was too tired to ask. Whatever it is, it’d better love water.

Saturday was Granddad’s memorial service where we buried him next to Grandma. One of his buddies said a few kind words and my aunt Linda read a really nice memorial to him that she had written. Once people had said what they needed to say, we put his ashes in the ground (he was cremated; Grandma wasn’t) and each of us put a shovel of dirt into the hole.

We went after that to Granddad’s favorite pizza joint and filled up on some pretty tasty pizza. It was good to hang out with folks and see what people were up to.

After pizza, some of us went back to Granddad’s house and took a few minutes to walk around and remember. My goodness, he had a lot of crap. (He liked doing woodworking, metalworking, stained glass work… and he had every type of tool, trinket, and spare material bits to do all of it.)

We got home late that night, a super long day of visiting and remembering and celebration. I think Granddad would have approved.

It’s 7:00p, and after a long day at work, Jenn and I decide it’s time to go get something to eat. Pizza sounds good, so we head to the local Schmizza to get a couple of slices.

Jenn gets a slice of “Sch’meat’za” (an all-meat special), an order of breadsticks, and a small drink. I think the “No Kiss Tonite” (garlic chicken, alfredo, feta, and red onion) sounds good, so I get that, a “Genoa” (another all-meat special), and a small drink.

The mood is relaxed as we eat our pizza, watch a little Nickelodeon on the TVs hanging around the place, and talk about our recent debacle making wedding invitations. (No, the invitations aren’t going quite as smoothly - or as cheaply - as I’d like, but I think we’ve got the details ironed out now, so it’s time to jump in and make them. But I digress.)

The pizza is finished and it’s time to pack up and go. Jenn has some breadsticks left over, so she gets up to get a box to take the remainder home in. It’s a bus-your-own-table kind of joint, so while she does that, I take the plates over to the garbage can.

I scrape the plates off into the trash, then put the plates and silverware into the box sitting on top of the trash. I pick my cup up and decide that, before we go, I should top it off with some soda so I can take that in the car with me.

I take a drink of soda as I head toward the dispenser and look over to see how Jenn’s doing. Looks like she’s loaded up her breadsticks and is waiting. The breadstick box is on the table, her drink is on the table, my drink is on the table…

My drink is on the table.

Hang on, my drink is on the table.

Then what’s this drink in my hand?

No.

No, no, no.

Nonononononononononononono.

Please don’t tell me I just picked this drink up off the top of the garbage can and started drinking it.

But I did. I’m drinking some random drink. From on top of the garbage can.

I think I’m going to be sick.

“Jenn, we need to go home now. I have to Listerine and brush my teeth.”