I finished my pages yesterday. The sun was out. There was a brisk wind, but the air had warmed, melted most of the snow. Puddles formed on the ice covered lake and I thought. Let's go outside. You see the dog yard hadn't been properly mucked out since it froze in December. Oh, we've tried to keep on top of it-so to speak-but with weeks of snow and ice most of it was frozen to the ground. I tried chopping it out once-but gave up and went in.
Now-now it was thawed. So, I pulled on a pair of old jeans, a jacket, gloves and rubber coated boats and headed out. Yay sunshine. I start raking. Nice. Ripe smell. Glad I didn't eat lunch. After an hour I was sweaty, covered in...well... muck, had raked 13 piles into 8 plastic grocery bags-which then went into one giant 30 gallon bag. That I managed to drag-that sucker must have weighed close to 100 pounds... yeah- to the side of the house.
Meanwhile the dogs laid on the dry deck sunning themselves and laughing behind their paws. Don't get too close, they said. You stink.
1) Poo really does roll down hill.
2) If you're going to muck-stand up hill.
3) Don't expect those who create the muck to help you clean it up.
4) Mucking is a chore best not to procrastinate about.
As for me, it was a nice reminder why I'm a writer- and not a rancher, dairy farmer, zoo keeper, pig wrangler or dog walker. Cheers!