graphx spwilcen
Often, when using a word I cannot recall last using, I pause to do a quick look-up to see that I’m using that word correctly. “Geeze,” some say, “this is the dude who plays loose and free with the English language, misusing words, making-up ridiculous near-real words, coming across as a literary buffoon – so what’s the big deal and who would recognize genuine misuse?”
There are those who cannot pass up any opportunity to point out others’ errors. I make these people happy, underwrite their sense of purpose. But…
In this day and age especially, wordsmiths live dreading moments when they are called to task for woeful displays of ignorance. You know, we must measure use of words like “white, “black,” “gay,” “policeman,” “sissy,” “Democrat,” “pig,” and so on. Add to that innocent incorrect use of a word from the dwindling list of inoffensive words. Top it off with the reality that with advancing age, even in the most benign instances of senility, words are easily confused, something less than the most accurate one chosen. In any instance, it is easy for me to feign intent instead of ignorance. Regardless of how convincing my defense, when I do make a bone-headed goof, I know I’ve done it, and it bothers me.
So I researched “respite,” which speaks of a break in a period of a difficult or unpleasant task. In my title, I mean only that I’ve been forced to break from a difficult task. No unpleasantness involved in this case. Rain this morning curtailed my outside activities. All of it the last several days has been difficult, hard, heavy, and tedious. Every trip to BBTS for something in multiples never weighing less than forty pounds, loading Black Magic to the maximum weight.* Hours on my feet, digging and hauling front to back and back to front, lifting, moving, and dragging.
As to unpleasantness – aside from yard maintenance, most of this work was for the new garden plot. That’s a bit of pleasure, even in the start-up process. Boss looks forward to expanded veggie space, room for more herbs, and splutters of floral color. Prep work is difficult, but not unpleasant.
Every evening at the close of a busy day, a pre-supper shower and clean clothing has been a delight. Wonderful meal before a couple hours relaxing together. But oh, those muscles! Ache is the new normal. Yesterday especially, I really overdid and away from the homestead for an extended time, I neglected hydration. As a lad, and as recently as ten, fifteen years ago, I felt “hydration” was a bunch of whoop-de-doo. Now I’m a believer. But it is so easy to forget when you’re busy.
When you’ve got to peel gloves off [when you remember to sissy-up and wear the danged things in the first place] to blow your nose, rearrange your underwear, scratch [ahem] an itch, or retrieve your knife from your trouser pocket, every interruption is unwelcome. A trip inside [or searching for where you last put your thermos] for hydration is a bother. In work mode, I tend to comfortably ignore the need.
It’s also easy to think I’m thirty years old. I’m not. As a lad, given a chore, I worked until it was done. There was no “I’ll finish-up tomorrow.” There rarely was a “Whew! I need a break. Let me rest a few minutes.” I’ve learned to take a break now and again. I’m still studying “I’ll finish-up tomorrow.”
Yesterday, a pop-quiz tested my understanding. I came up short. Lots of lifting, toting, standing. Breaks: correct answer. Work like it must be finished today: half-credit. Hydration: incorrect answer. Not a good score. I paid for it. Uncomfortable fatigue, and, Boss says, signs of dehydration.
Today, along came a rain, declaring one, I need to take a break from pushing-pushing; two, all of that work will still be there for me tomorrow; and three, the only one disappointed that I didn’t finish all of my planned work yesterday is me. Hydration will be less necessary and more easily done.
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* Black Magic is old in people years, has hauled tons and tons of material many, many miles. A “practice truck” to begin with, never a groan of argument when loaded, be it soil, stone, tools & equipment, decking, timber, sod, or whatever the cargo, Magic seems in fact to respond positively to a substantial load. I know though, springs are tired, steering and brakes are weary, and the drive train willing but less robust. Hmm. Sounds familiar.
Ramblings 