Three hours later, still in the bed, still dead.
A friend called, "Whatcha doin'?" She asked.
"I'm paralized - dead, I think." I replied.
Muscles I didn't know I had wouldn't move. They didn't even know they existed - until yesterday.
This is what the end of my driveway looked like yesterday morning.
Under that cloggmation of leaves is supposedly a gutter, or dip, or whatever that thingy is called at the end of a driveway.
Mud. Lots of mud. See the tire tracks? No way to enter or leave. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.
To keep my anger in check this morning, which burst wide open yesterday morning, I will simply say a neighbor rerouted his water problem into our yard. Seriously, a trench, onto our property to solve the run-off problem in his backyard. It has been a gradual process but my yard has slowly transferred itself to the street. Grass is now growing in the street - my grass - in the street.
No one can come, no one can leave. Help. We are down to our last ounce of water and dry cracker. Hallucinations have set in, the mailman won't run . . .
I have been patient, I have been a good neighbor. For three years I have watched my yard wash away - while keeping my mouth shut. So, yesterday, armed with three slaves - otherwise known as my children - and looking like this . . .
. . . I set out to put my yard back in its place - at least until He's Too Good To Me can block off the trench this weekend and do a little building up - or another torrential rainfall, whichever comes first.
All that mud you see is just in one of the spots and is just some of what we shoveled back over the gutter, dippy, thingy.
I'm not sure why I did it in my jammie pants, spur of the moment anger, I guess. Or, maybe it's because this is how I normally dress . . .
. . . but I didn't feel my pearls and heels were appropriate. If you believe that I've got a swamp in a Mississippi street to sell you.
Remember the I Love Lucy (and I really do) episode in which Lucy was going to model in a fashion show but stayed out in the sun too long? She was so sunburned she couldn't move.
Isn't she great?
That is what I felt like this morning. Not sunburnt, but sore and unable to move. Paralized, dead. The muscles I used to shovel two tons of mud are not the same muscles I use on a daily basis. Sad, but true.
Pedicures, manicures, facials, and spa treatments are what I'm used to.
You, my blog friends, should have been here. Me, in all my glory, in the rain and cold, shoveling the street in my jammies. Cars honking, men whistling, and neighbors gawking.
Quite a show. Should have charged admission. Should have bought Ben-Gay.
