Slightly less morose (or less ose, as we say in my house)
I ended up compromising: no far away garden center, no manure. But I did go to the horrible, horrible Hom.e De.pot and get the necessities for starting my tomatoes. As long as I have brandywine tomatoes, I don’t care about starting other things from seed. Then BFB came over and she told me all about the miracle of childbirth while I sat there holding Jane. I definitely choked back tears a couple of times. There’s something about the part where the husband tells the wife how great she’s doing that really gets me. I don’t quite know why. Maybe I just want my husband to be proud of me.
Also, BFB seems to have bonded a bit more or maybe she’s just more relaxed, ’cause she was doing a lot more tender lovin’ and kissin’ on her baby, and that’s a bit hard to watch.
So this morning I attacked some stumps in my yard to burn off a little of my non-energy. Stump removal is extremely satisfying. I mean, stumps are such assholes. They sit there looking hideous and contributing nothing, and when you try to get rid of them, they totally fight back. FUCK YOU, STUMPS! Make way for some lilies of the valley!
Under the influence of the warm sun (it’s 60 degrees! 60!!) and the adorable fuzzeh chipmunk that sat on a rock and observed me, I even had a brief moment of vitality. I thought, Maybe next week I can start fresh. Get back into the swing of things at work, spend some of my home time on activities I used to enjoy… But alas, I know from experience that plans to be more productive and lively In The Future should be met with suspicion. ‘Cause when the future comes, I’ll still be a wet dishrag. But hopefully one with delicious tomatoes!