flotsam, there is something wrong with me

Cussing in my yard

It’s not a proud moment, to be honest. But it’s a thing that happened. This I must confess.

Also I will say, this happened about a week ago. This particular shameful moment did not happen over the holy weekend.

Like that makes it better.

(Voice over: She was correct; it did not make it better.)

Usually I’d unpack my shed of all the cute yard stuff on a nice warm sunny day. I’d do it at leisure, because I felt moved and inspired to do it. All that set out, I’d uncover my deck tables, carefully roll up the covers and put them in the bin that had the yard stuff in it. Stash it all away and then enjoy how nice my yard looks, all set out for the season.

But that’s not what it looks like now. Now I’m working around crappy overcast weekends in light of the need for the table covers to be dry before I put them away. And although in the middle of my yard I’m 25 feet minimum from any other person, even if my neighbors were also in their yards – which they aren’t – I’m wanting to get back inside. It’s irrational- I should want to be out in this safe space.

Not always rational, here.

So I hurriedly get all the cute stuff out of the bin and then –

Well honestly I am not inspired or excited and it’s chilly and I have no mental capacity or patience for rolling up these covers just so.

Which means it takes three tries, a lot of stuff falling in my shed, and a fair amount of cussing on my part.

Like I said – not a proud moment.

I hope your weekend looks a bit better than that. :/

2 thoughts on “Cussing in my yard”

  1. I’ve cussed in yards and I’ve cussed in trucks
    Dished out a few dammits and a whole lot of f*cks
    Cussing has not been confined to the home
    I’ve cursed in restaurants and once, the Kingdome
    It’s not that my temper’s especially short
    But I’d win Olympic gold if cussing were a sport

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s