I hate to assume what God thinks about anything, but people do it all the time, so I really don’t think God intended me for manual labor. I mean, it’s not the worst thing in the world, but I think I’m better suited for television. I’d even be willing to be a donut taster, if that’s a thing. But after two days of working in my friend Ray’s yard–all while wearing unattractive velcro shoes and smelling like a mixture of sunscreen, Deep Woods Off, and any dog shit I may have stepped in–I definitely don’t want to make a career out of picking up sticks and weed whacking. All that being said, I’m grateful that my body was able to function today without the aid of crutches or pain killers.

So that’s something.

Fortunately, Ray’s not a hard taskmaster, and I got to sleep in until noon today. Finding some coffee in the pot, I woke up slowly and was ready to work by one, which is when it started raining–a lot. Of course, rain is a real bitch when you’re trying to work in the yard because yards are outside. So instead I worked inside tightening up cabinet doors with power tools, and Ray said I’d make a good lesbian if my hair were only shorter. Then I went to Lowe’s and Home Depot in search of the threshold piece we need, which neither place had. Apparently Ray’s threshold is wider than normal because it’s older construction. That means a trip to a specialty store tomorrow or ordering something custom.

Shortly after I got back from The Fruitless Threshold Search of 2017, it stopped raining, so I raked the front yard and bagged up all the junk. On the one hand, I think it was easier because everything was wet and stuck together. On the other hand, everything was wet and stuck together. But I got it all done. Now I just need to clean the sidewalks, which I’m hoping will be dry enough tomorrow to sweep off. Granted, this plan is contingent on my body not staging a complete rebellion.

I spent the rest of the work day in the backyard, which at first glance appeared to be in need of a machete and a machine gun. My main project was to tear down a contraption where Ray used to keep chickens and a pig named General MacArthur. I thought it resembled an Army bunker, but it was basically was a pen made of t-posts, PVC pipe, chicken wire, and enough zip ties to make for a really kinky Friday night. (That’s a sex joke, Mom. Some people like to be tied up. Don’t worry–I’m not one of them.) The other goal was to repair a section of fence where a tree fell. Essentially, it showed up uninvited and screwed things up real good. (I’ve dated people with this pattern of behavior.)

Here’s a picture of the fallen tree and jacked-up fence. Notice the animal pen in the background.

I told Jesse these projects were a pain in the ass–or, more accurately–a pain in my ass. I was able to break up some of the limbs from the dead tree to pile on the side of the house, but the tree itself was about the size of a junior light pole. (Thank God for those peanut butter crackers I ate this afternoon for energy.) The 2×4 holding up the wire fence was obviously broken, and since the wire was crushed, I tore that out too. But the 2×4 along the ground where the wire attached was covered with ivy, so I had to tear that mess out in order to attach new wire. Then I moved on to the animal pen, and I can’t even find the words. Maybe it gave me PTSD because I’m sweating just thinking about it. The t-posts wouldn’t budge, and everything else came apart about as easily as chewing gum comes out of my nephew’s hair. I said, “Fuck,” a lot. But here’s a picture of the day’s progress. More shall be done tomorrow, since I quit today when it started raining again and someone said, “Tacos.”

I don’t think the picture really does these cuts and scrapes on my forearms justice. I didn’t take a picture of the fallen tree debris, but here’s a picture of the destroyed chicken house/pig pen and all the wreckage from the rest of the backyard. Ray said, “I’ve never seen someone with so much energy.” I said, “That’s not energy–that’s determination.” Honestly, I felt like it was Man vs. Nature, me against inertia. I told Ray, “I’m exercising my self-will over your property.”

Today I’ve thought a lot about all the things that are beyond my control. My original plan was to fix the threshold, mend the fence, and finish the backyard today. But then it rained–and rained again later–so there was only so much I could do. Additionally, some of the chicken wire was buried under a wall of rocks, the t-posts were at least two feet in the ground, and I’m only one person. (This is really hard for me to admit.) I’d love to say that everything will be “perfect” before I leave tomorrow, but I just don’t know. Even if the weather and my body cooperate, there will still be huge piles of brush left, since we don’t currently have a way to haul that off.

My therapist says I have an issue with “completion.” I like things “finished.” (I have it on pretty good authority that Jesus felt this way too, since his last words during Round 1 were, “It is finished.”) If I work in a yard, I want it to be “done,” and if I break up or have a fight with someone, I want us to be “okay.” Of course, this isn’t the way life works. You can’t always clean out a jungle in a weekend, and some relationships take time to mend, if they mend at all. But perhaps this is the gift of time, which teaches us to slow down, not work so hard, and let things unfold as they do. For surely there is wisdom in falling rain and growing ivy, just as there is wisdom in cutting back bushes and mending fences, wisdom that reminds us life is bigger than what we can control, nothing is ever truly done, and all things–including us–are complete in this moment.