It was an all-out Yarders weekend: we weeded and moved things, moved things and built things, built and schemed and planted things - and did I mention weed?
The Monday & Tuesday after were ibuprofin limparound days, with light meals, heating pads, and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g the hurt away. I laughed at how surprised I was that I'm not 20 anymore.
You hear it all the time - people talking about how young they feel until they look in the mirror. I want to be the timeless Inside me and not the real time Outside me. And yet, like last weekend, we know who's in charge -- especially for an urban-soft city gardener learning her way through real yardwork.
We HAD this discussion already, me and the Hubs. We talked about slowing down and pacing ourselves, so we don't burn out. But there's something crazy fun about living inside your dream that makes it hard to wait. Impossible, really.
So last weekend in spite of the 5+5 plan (5 hrs out in the garden and 5 hours in, resting up from the week), we dove off the wagon at the first hint of a perfect day.
It's hopeless, I'm afraid. Better stock up on SalonPas.
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