The amount of work I get done around the house and yard on a given weekend is directly proportional to the intensity of the backache that inevitably results. I got a lot done this time. There is not enough naproxin sodium in the world to fix this. Now I'm sitting here with a hot pack wrapped around my lower back. I hadn't planned to work in the yard at all on Saturday, but the Tech game was such a crapfest that I went outside to burn off my frustration. For three hours. At top speed. *sigh* I was pretty mad.
At one point, I had to go get PDM and ask "Hey honey, can you move this toilet so I can get to the lawnmower?" Then I cracked up. Never thought I'd have to say something like that. That ranks right up there with the redneck classic: "Can you move this transmission so I can take a bath?" The bathroom construction project is still going on, and we have bath fixtures all over the place. Including the carport storage room, right in front of the lawnmower.
It wasn't all drudgery, although our fun plans for today were scuttled by my waking up with a sore throat -- we were supposed to spend the day on the lake in a friend's boat. That didn't seem like a great idea given the cool temps and my possible cold or whatever this is. We stayed home and painted the wainscoting in the new bathroom instead. But I did get to see my sister. She spent last night with us during an Atlanta layover. We went out to dinner, then watched Clerks II and drank the bottle of Bordeaux she brought back from Paris. Classy, no? Nothing goes with "ass to mouth" dialog like fancy French wine.