My boss is trying to kill me

He wanted me to work Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday this weekend so I could sell firewood at the shop while he made firewood deliveries in anticipation of this cold front that’s about  to hammer us. As much as I would have liked the extra hours, I had to say no. Lots of reasons for that, too many to list.

I thought just working Friday and Saturday would be OK.

I need to learn to quit thinking. It’s usually my first mistake.

Side note: I’ll never forget the first time I heard that. I was talking to another recovering addict, and I said “I’ve been thinking”. The response I got was “that’s usually my first mistake.” I fell over laughing, because it is so true.

Yesterday was brutal. It was a non-stop marathon of chucking firewood from point A to point B. It got so bad at one point that I had pickup trucks lined up in the driveway, drivers outside the vehicles, waiting their turn to get loaded with firewood. The boss wasn’t there so I had no forklift service, which meant all that firewood had to be loaded by hand.

Customers were helping other customers load firewood, I was collecting payment from everybody waiting in line; at the other end of the parking lot, a guy was loading his own truck. It was insane.

One of the boss’s friends stopped by and started helping customers, showing them what was available & how much it cost, and helping people load small stacks of wood into their vehicles. It took me a while to remember that this guy owns a company that sells dirt and mulch and such, and that he probably knew how to operate heavy equipment. Once I remembered that, we had forklift service.

I’m glad yesterday is over. I’m just afraid that today will be a repeat performance.  Send help STAT


Hustle and flow

It’s been a rough bunch of weeks for my body. It’s August in Texas, so breathing doesn’t exactly come easy to my lungs. COPD is a total motherbitch sometimes. I’ve been struggling with fatigue in a way that I haven’t felt since the antidepressants really started working. My addict brain says “get the doc to increase the dosage”; the 12 steps tell me to hold off until the weather cools back down a bit and see how I’m feeling then. It’s hard, trying to wait; I hate feeling this old, sore, tired, and generally crappy.

It’s our busy season at the produce stand, so work is 10 to 11 hours of non-stop hustle. It’s basically outdoors, and it’s a lot of lifting and toting. It can be brutal in this heat and humidity. 

We’re building a house, so we’ve been non-stop hustle trying to get the place to an air & water tight point so we can slow down a bit. I’m sick of watching Sunshine kill himself to pay for things, and would like to see him rest & relax a bit.

The fall garden is off to a rollicking good start, but I still haven’t planted the squash and beans. Mr B has promised to help me tomorrow morning,  and he’s usually good at figuring out ways to do gardening that aren’t as punishing to our old-ass bodies. Hopefully,  he can prevent the planting from being an entire day of non-stop hustle. 

My trip to Georgia for my sister’s wedding didn’t help matters any. I spent entirely too long in my truck on both parts of the round-trip drive. I actually slept til 10 one morning; my mom was so alarmed she came in and woke me up to make sure I hadn’t died in my sleep. I’m looking forward to spending Christmas with my family, and am glad Sunshine will be with me to share the driving.

Today, I’m off to help the electrical engineer pre-wire our house; another day of non-stop hustle. We really need to save on labor costs whenever possible, so tag-I’m-it.  All I know to do is go with the flow and hope the weather patterns changes soon so I can maybe feel better.

Mother Nature is trying to kill me

This heat wave is making it hard for me to breathe. It is sucking all of the life out of me. I am struggling with fatigue. It doesn’t help that I had the road trip from hell on Tuesday, spending most of it IN A HOT CAR WAITING ON SHIT TO HAPPEN.

I’ll quit yelling now.

I’ve been borrowing spoons from the coming day to get through the current one, and I feel like a crash and burn is imminent. I’ve probably leveraged my spoons through Halloween, at least.

I’m so low on spoons that even posting on this blob is draining me, but I need to write. It provides some release, it helps me see things clearly when I look back, and it serves as our record of what we tried and what didn’t work.

I’m off to spend some quality time with my couch and a book called “the urban homestead” that was gifted to me by the wonderful Eco-Feminist. Thank you for such a thoughtful (and well-timed) gift, I owe you one!


It’s one of those weeks when I’m really reminded that I have a chronic condition. My COPD and anemia have me feeling fatigued. The overabundance of things needing my attention combined with my job and the heat/humidity have me exhausted on top of the fatigue. I’m also STILL hurting in my back and hip from the great septic system debacle, which only serves to drain me further.

I can’t drop dead just yet. My boss is going out of town for the weekend, so I have to work all day for the next three days. In the heat and humidity. 

I had planned on resting today. Ass, meet couch. Ass and couch, meet Netflix.

I really need to stop making plans.

Last night, Sunshine made a shitty comment in a shitty tone of voice: “well you could help me out sometimes” (referring to our house construction). I ignored it at the time.

Today, I tried to watch Netflix. But I couldn’t get that shitty comment in that shitty tone out of my head. So I dragged my COPD/anemic/fatigued/exhausted/hurting ass down the hill and sanded the exterior door to prep it for stain and sealer. Then I sanded the exterior door casings to prep them for stain and sealer.

Of course, the hours I spent sanding on those doors will come off the end of my life. I spent spoons I didn’t have to help Sunshine realize his dream of building a house. 

I’ll probably wind up resorting to steroids to get me through the next three days at work. I’ll probably have to resort to steroids to get me through learning to can jam on Monday, too. 

Side note: my neighbor is some kind of canning and cooking genius, and has graciously offered to teach me to can jam.

I’m exhausted, I’m fatigued, and there’s no rest for the wicked this weekend.

Final note: I have chosen what to name the house and Sunshine gets no say in it. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. “El descanso del diablo”. Or “la Paz del diablo”. Either/or. They each mean “devil’s rest” in Spanish, with subtly different nuances. I shall name that house Devil’s​ Rest, and I shall name it in Spanish. I just haven’t yet decided which subtlety to use.