Last Saturday it rained here all day, and on Sunday it rained most of the day, but we make a distinction here between types of rain – kind of like the Inuit have a hundred different words for snow. So on Sunday it was “showers” in the mid-day, which is a very light misty rain, quite tolerable for working outside, which I proceeded to do.
The bank had been drenched with rain for weeks, and was now mud-on-rocks. I was determined to make at least a rudimentary path up the bank, as I am tired of slipping in the mud every time I go up and down it, which is a lot.
So I’m out there, moving stacks of joists and scrap lumber into nice neat piles so we can have room to build the small deck, and I’m getting really muddy. There are piles of rocks in various places, as every time I remove any dirt there are rocks of every size that get uncovered. These I stack up in piles. I have a pile in the front yard too, and I’m thinking of hauling them to the backyard to help shore up my path up the bank, but rocks are heavy and I haven’t gotten the motivation to do that yet.
So anyway, I grabbed a shovel and started moving some mud/dirt to help stabalize the rocks I’m using for the path. It turns out you can’t just toss the rocks on the bank and be done with it (which is what I was hoping for). They tend to just roll back down the bank, stupid rocks.
This made me really mad at first, as I was trying to do this path building with as little effort as possible. I started slinging mud with my shovel, digging out shallow holes where I wanted the rocks to be. I was soon covered with mud; my jeans were mud splattered, my gloves were all muddy, and the shovel handle, from the top of the handle down, was covered with mud. It still is sitting my garage, totally caked with dried mud.
The hamster report