You load 16 tons, and what do you get?
A freakin' sore back, that's what. OKAY I didn't really load 16 tons of anything this weekend, but I DID load at least one ton of gravel on Saturday. Loading it means that I shoveled it into a bigass garden cart, hauled it across 200 feet of yard, dumped it into the pathway where I wanted it, and raked it out. It took 12 loads of gravel, each weighing about 200 pounds, to fill the pathway. Am I bragging? HELL yes!
When I first stared at that huge pile of gravel, I thought "You idiot. You can't possibly do this." Then I did it.
Not that it was fun. Well, it was KIND of fun, at first. I was shoveling like a fiend, singing work songs to myself (undoubtedly much to the neighbors' horror). I started with "16 Tons" and moved on to "Workin In a Coal Mine" and "Drill Ye Tarriers Drill" (Which I always think of as "Drill Ye Terriers Drill"). I pretended I was a stoker on a steamship for awhile (yes, I truly am that juvenile). Then I pretended I was a stoker on an old locomotive, which caused me to sing "Scalded to Death by the Steam."
After awhile, my song had degenerated to "High ho, high ho, this really freakin' blows," growled under my breath. Then I was breathing too hard to sing anymore.
About halfway through the pathway, I started to slow down. I was starting to stiffen up, my arms and shoulders hurt like hell, and my lower back was groaning in misery. (It wasn't the shoveling that did that, it was pulling a cart that weighed way the hell more than I did across bumpy ground over and over again.) At one point, I stopped, stared at the pile of gravel, which had an impressive divot taken out of it by then, and had a little conversation with myself. It went something like this:
Whiny Me: I can't do this anymore. I'm going to die.
Fierce Me: No you're not. The doctor said your heart is as strong as a friggin' drop-forge. Pick up that shovel.
WM: But it's HARD! I'm all sweaty!
FM: Yeah, and you smell bad too. Get back to work.
WM: But it HUUUUUURTS.
FM: Well, duh. Run inside and gobble some Aleve, then get yer ass back here.
WM: Good idea. (Scuttles in, gobbles drugs, gulps a diet coke and some almonds. Kids laugh at dirty, muddy, sweaty, icky Mom. Chases kids around the kitchen for a minute yelling "GIVE ME A HUUUUG!" then comes back out.)
FM: So? Are you ready to stop whining and start working again?
WM: OH I guess so. But I get beer after this. And some ice cream. But not at the same time.
FM: Okay then!
The second half of the pathway was harder to deal with physically, because I was so tired, but I also had that "downhill slope" rush going on. And I had enough energy left to do a victory dance after I dumped the last load. Pictures will follow soon. (Of the pathway. Not the victory dance.)
Did I drop dead after that? NOPE! I took a loooong shower, 800 mg of ibuprofin, and I went to the Neptune Theater to see the midnight showing of "Black Sheep" at the Seattle International Film Festival! (HUGE and enormous thanks to
ironymaiden for sharing the company pass with me!) OMIGOD did I love that movie! I laughed so hard my sides hurt even through the massive wall of medication I had so far ingested. LOADS of gore, hilarious premise, and rapid-fire jokes. This would be a great triple-feature with "Slither" and "Feast." Anyway, got home, poured myself in bed, and slept like a dead woman. And I didn't dream of any sheep, electric, zombified, or otherwise.
I planned to haul the rest of the remaining gravel into the yard on Sunday, but it was not to be. It wasn't that I was too sore. OK I was pretty sore, but the main problem was that Daniel was out and poor little Orion's cold took a turn for the worse. He was just miserable, and really needed his mama. The only way I could get him to lie down for long was to lie down with him, so I had a pretty lazy Sunday. Not that I minded. I can think of WAY worse ways to spend a warm afternoon than lying in bed with the fan blowing, reading a book, half-dozing with my sweet little boy sleeping in the crook of my arm.
Daniel got home around 5 and I hightailed it outside. I got 6 more loads of gravel hauled in, when it started raining like hell. OH MAN did that feel good! I covered the piles of dirt and gravel with tarps, hauled up the flagstones I had bought that morning, and reluctantly went inside. (I probably would have stayed out for awhile, but Daniel got nervous over all the thunder and made me come in. YEESH it wasn't THAT close!)
My pathway is lookin' GOOD. Of course, it'll look a bit better when everything around it doesn't look like a nuclear bomb hit it. But it's a start.
Still sore today, but tolerable. Enough ibuprofin will make almost anything OK.