So I spent Monday doing a lot of nothing, trying to recover from the beating I gave myself on Sunday with that Amish weedeater.
I spent yesterday doing the same shit to myself again. You’d think I’d know better. COPD means that I understand the spoon theory of invisible illnesses. I get it, I am limited in how much I can accomplish most days.
Yet I continue to take on too much some days.
This week, I think a lot of it is because I know that Sunshine is about to go back to the ArkLaTex for work for a week. I’ll be limited in what I can do while he is gone (because I don’t understand chainsaws and I don’t have the sheer brute force his strong self does), so I’ll get to just piddle with tasks around here and do some crocheting. I’ll be able to sleep as late as I like, take my time with my coffee every morning, and generally be lazy.
That still doesn’t fully explain what the hell has been going on with me the last few days.
I’m disgusted with the lack of progress on meaningful projects around here.
The grass is half-mowed, half-jungle.
The fenceline and tree line still need a flamethrower to bring them under control since nobody has properly weedeated in months. We still have no garden. Nobody has sprayed herbicide under the magic bus to keep it from becoming a tangle of growth under there. We have no chickens, no goats, no sheep, and Sunshine hasn’t killed any squirrels or wild boar so that we have meat in the freezer. The shade sails are sitting in their plastic wrappers, waiting for somebody to put them to use protecting the aging roof of the magic bus and lowering our electric bill.
In Sunshine’s defense, he has been working on a project. It’s definitely an important project, just not one that makes it any easier or more sustainable for us to continue this adventure. I see the benefit the project will bring us in the long term, it just isn’t doing anything to make life more comfortable or affordable in the short term.
The neighbor came over this week looking for some work so he could make a little extra cash to buy his wife a Mother’s Day gift. He brought his lawnmower. Sunshine assigned him a specific area to mow. The asshole neighbor mowed about a third of what he was asked to mow, then started trimming trees and bushes and leaving the piles of trimmings hither, thither, and yon. He also mowed some grass over here, some grass over there, dug some garage door panels out of the ground
(don’t ask, I have no clue what the hell the garage door panels were doing there, I think this might have been a hoarder house). When I asked this neighbor why he didn’t finish mowing the specific area Sunshine asked him to mow, his response was “that shit’s too thick. He’s gonna have to weedeat it” as he carried on a conversation with me while I used a slingblade on that same thick shit in a different area. Part of me wanted to whack him in the face with the business end of the Amish weedeater and say “he’s gonna have to weedeat it? Really, fucker?” But I decided that if he wasn’t already noticing the obvious, he wasn’t worth catching a charge.
I’ve been cleaning up after his messes and finishing his half-done shit since he left Sunday and it is pissing me off. I’m also pissed off that Mr. B has owned this property for around 9 months and in that 9 months nobody has thought it might be a good idea to buy a lawnmower or tractor or something. There’s been plenty of talk about lawnmowers and tractors and bush-hogs and tillers and goats and sheep and shit, but here we are still trying to figure out what the hell to do about the grass every week.
So I’ve taken my anger out on the bush that the neighbor left half cut down. I got the bush cut down except for a really big thick stump that Sunshine is going to have to chainsaw into oblivion.
I’ve taken my frustration out on the overgrown grass and weeds along the fenceline. I got damn near the entire front fenceline weedeated (thank you Mr. B for getting one of the weedeaters running and showing me how to adjust it if it started running like shit again!
I’ve taken my anger out on the piles of tree limbs and shit that the neighbor has left lying hither, thither, and yon. I got the piles of tree branches picked up.)
I even helped Sunshine on his project, cleaned the house, did all of the laundry, and made a grocery run and a couple of materials runs. And in doing all that, I have taken my anger out on my own body.
It’s not like I have anything to prove.
So why have I suddenly become fascinated with hand saws, slingblades, and other implements of destruction?
Maybe for the same reason I agreed to move out here to the middle of buttfuck nowhere.
Maybe I spent so many years in chaos, insanity, and caught up in the rampant capitalist consumer rat race that I really long for something simpler. I enjoy the satisfaction of accomplishing a task like cutting down a bush with a handsaw, and clearing weeds out of a ditch with a slingblade. The Amish just might be on to something major. How much benefit has all this technology really brought to our lives?
I guess I’m just going to have to find a happy medium between the simple life and the technology that can make life simpler for me and my chronic illness.