I'm Afraid

I'm going to be crippled when I'm old. I'm afraid I'm going to be crippled BEFORE I'm old.

How am I? you ask. Well let me tell you. Do you have a hanky? A tissue?

Enough about you--you are here to listen to me whine. You are here to hear.....

Setting:

Yesterday was a beautiful day, a glorious day! A day that should not be happening in Oklahoma before Valentine's Day even arrives. A day that should not be happening just 5 days after Punxsutawny Phil, Seer of Seers, proclaimed that there will be six more weeks of winter.

A day where the high was 74 degrees with no wind, no cloud cover and it was just.....perfect....

So Les and I decide to trim the trees in the front yard--cause you're supossed to do that in the winter, and they needed done. We called his wonderful dad to bring over the chain saw and the long-handled, cut off branches high in the tree, while you stay safely on the ground saw.

And he did--brought them over.

And we did--we lopped off those offensive overgrown branches. And cut them into pieces for the fireplace and piled the twiggy bits by the curb in hopes that the wonderful trash people will cart them away.

Cut to the scene of our woodpile:

Someone in the very near past, as in this winter, piled uncured wood on top of the dry wood. Someone said it will burn, you just have to have a roaring fire. Someone said it will burn for a very long time if you have piled sufficient dry wood around it. Someone didn't want to restack the wood twice to get the dry wood to the top.

Wait--three times, no, make that four.

--Take off the new wood and stack it.

--Take off the cured wood and stack it.

--Return the new, uncured and extremely heavy wood to the bottom of the wood holder thingy.

--Return the dry, cured and considerably lighter wood to the top of the wood holder thingy, which is now very full and in danger of raining logs on your head.

So, while the men were cutting the wood, I rearranged the wood. This is not nearly as gratifying as rearranging furniture, the cabinets or even your sock drawer.

Soooooooo, as a result, now I'm going to be crippled. Possibly for life. Because rearranging wood, especially extremely heavy, uncured wood, is not for the weak or faint of heart or the gloveless. (Can you say splinters?)

And I'm sad because one of my favorite shirts is stained with sap. Do you have a sappy shirt? Do you have a sappy story like this one?

And there's really no point to this post other than that I woke up at 4:00 wishing I could remove my right leg from my body and was bored. And after reading "Serious Life" online magazine (check it out, it's very interesting) and looking up "bursitis," "arthritis," and "sleep-inhibiting leg pain," it wasn't even 6:30. And so I thought I'd share my woes with total strangers or anyone else who stumbles across this blog.

What key words shall I put in to confuse people?
Werewolves

Sweet Gum Tree

Chain Saw

Medical Dictionary

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

Groundhog

But it is now 7:04. I can drag myself and my leg into the kitchen and get coffee without waking anyone up to early.

And I feel better now for sharing my woes. Do you feel my pain?

Yes, I know, I'm a whiner. And pitiful. But I do have a cute picture on here! Sarah and Molly--about 5 and 8 years.

By the way, the forecast is for snow next weekend.