Ten weeks and counting...

I'll raise my hand and admit to being a wimp.  Mornings are just not my thing. I'm slogging through these weeks like a zombie and making a vow here and now, not again.

DO NOT DO IT!  I'll need to remember this next year if they ask me back, no no no. It would be different if I wasn't alone but trying to keep all these parts moving is really exhausting. Does my body hurt because I'm so tired or am I so tired because my body hurts?

Who knows, but I think it's okay admitting that in two years I'll be sixty and maybe, just maybe, I can't do everything.

Damn and blast, really?

Only ten more weeks, socking money away in hopes of putting in a hot tub, it's a good goal.

Of course, I probably don't need to spend the 45 minutes I have in between jobs filling my yard waste container, do I?  But I did, filled it up and then took advantage of the sunny day today to fill it again, just in case it's raining next time.

I forgot how beautiful my gardens were in Minnesota. I used to sit in the hot tub in the morning, after everyone left, drink coffee and watch the birds, it was heavenly.

We don't have that many iris out here, they love water and damp, rich soil, both in short supply out here. I'm consciously avoiding planting anything new, hoping I can continue to water my flowering dogwoods if our drought continues. It seems a selfish thing to water plants when there are those who have failing wells. I've also thought about putting in cisterns but finding the space for them on my relatively small lot is daunting.

Oh well, time for sleep.

Peace