The same day someone forgot to turn off the outside faucet during the morning. The hose was still connected that afternoon. I am not sure how much water or money headed for China.
Truth be, so much went wrong Friday, I was more than glad to end the day. I went to bed and buried my head in thoughts of happier days in my life. I think Paul did the same.
Saturday morning we were chipper and ready to see where the day would take us. The back porch that Paul recently re-roofed needed further repair.
I volunteered to help with the project, as the work would require two people on extension ladders to hold the new boards and nail them in place. More than that, someone was needed to run up and down their chosen ladder to retrieve and relay the slightly weathered nails, hammers, tape, this and that and everything else to the worksite.
Besides, I like to build things. I earned my own hammer!
We were both taking in the heat from the sun and sweating profusely during the repaired of the framework of the roof of our old back porch.
I think the wasps knew that. They were curious, but not enough to get up close and personal. No new sinkers for us!
The boss of the project went to his garage, a fair distance from the little blue house at the end of the road. The poor guy was blinded by sweat. On his way back down the driveway he saw me still standing on my ladder, in my dirty white tennis shoes and my, "YOU GO GIRL" get-up and remarked from afar," You look and act like you are in your late twenties!"
Boy o' boy, I'm telling you for the moment, those years just melted away.
I liked that untruth. The age spots vanished and the wrinkles smoothed out and I could see clearly to the limits of my scope. The pony tail sprung to life, everything else lifted and shifted.
I grabbed one end of that perfectly cut board and climbed to the highest step of that well-used piece of equipment and nailed my ends of the boards to the existing frame and rafters like a pro. Then, still enjoying the lifts, this old girl giggled and wiggled downward back toward reality.
We then decided a break would be a sensible move. While enjoying a rest and light refreshments, Paul was still trying to compliment me for being a good helper and stuff like that. Then, he added, "Honey you look like you are in your late 40s or early 50s today!"
Well folks, about half of frill went out of the thrill at that point, almost enough to run back up that ladder and pull-out those spent nails or rob him of his rations.
Time passed and I clocked out and resumed my full-time job, inside. I needed to cooked a nice meal for us and Tootie was peering into her empty dish.
We finished all of our works and settled down, feeling like a Mack truck wiped us out. Then someone brought charley horses into the little blue house.
These out of joint finger-like toes overlapped and made a fist. I temporarily regained my arches. My legs buckled.
I fought with the cramping quadriceps and aching feet. After a stretch or more, I won half of the battle.
He nodded off and missed all of the local and world news. When deer tripped the security alarm, the good old boy stirred and stopped snoring.
Then, in a low voice came the truest, but most painful words. ""Mom, I think we are getting old -- just too much work and no play!"
Could it be Paul Baby was saying, in fact, that we are too old to cut the mustard anymore?
This old hen grabbed Tootie Mae and headed for the roost.
Personally, I think he is exaggerating a wee bit. What do you think?
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