Being injured kind of stinks

I know, I know.

I should be grateful I have a lower right leg.

I should also remember that it has only been two full weeks and when you get to be my age, it takes time to heal.

Apparently, a lot of time.

I can now hobble around the house without the use of my brand-new crutches. I even spent a half a day testing soils in the lab, which totally made my Monday so worthwhile.

It’s all the farm stuff that I cannot tackle that drives me nuts!

This past weekend, Steve, Joey and Russ spent time ripping down the old eye-sore we call the feed shed. Why it’s called the feed shed is beyond me. We have never kept any feed in it. It should have been referred to as the junk shed, because that’s all that was in there. Old milking buckets, galvanized and pvc pipe, windows, pulleys.

You name it; it was in there.

Yes, we saved what we thought was invaluable. Fifty years down the road, I am not so sure our descendants with consider it valuable.

But who’s to say?

All I could do was watch from the sidelines. My leg still hurts enough to convince me that I am not ready for hard work.

It’s kind of like a bovine with a sore foot. She doesn’t want to get up off her bedding to eat or drink, because her foot would kill her with antagonizing pain.

I want to get my spring plants set in their proper pots. I want to put more berry bushes in the psuedo-orchard.

I have the same amount of patience as a Mayfly, whose life cycle is 24-hours. Mayflies hatch and have to breed and lay eggs within that one day. I imagine there is no patience for finding the correct mate. She flies probably grab the first he fly that flitters by.

I want my leg to heal yesterday.



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