We did the yardwork yesterday. Boy, could we tell it afterward. I don’t mean the lawn looked really good with a fresh mowing and edging, which it did. I don’t even mean the flower beds that Chris attacked are really coming along nicely, which they are. I mean us. No, this wasn’t some transcendental moment or anything. Nothing so wonderful and grand. It’s just … well, other than being physically exhausted, Chris came out of the whole experience with a really sore back. She was having trouble walking upright. Looked a lot like me when my back acts up. On my part, I had a calf muscle that developed a mind of its own. It wasn’t a cramp, really. Just an ache that wouldn’t leave. But the most annoying thing was when it decided it was time to do its own set of exercises. I could sit on the couch and watch it jump and roll and twitch to its heart’s content. Very weird.
After
we got cleaned up and had some lunch, we actually watched a little college
football. And I may or may not have
slept through a little college football.
Did I mention the exhausted part?
That, combined with Chris’ homemade vegetable soup, and I was down for
the count. When I woke up there were two
minutes left in the game and one team had just recovered an on-side kick to
give it a chance to pull off the win in the waning seconds. Gee, and I almost missed that. I’m not sure who was playing, but it was a
fun ending. They ended up falling just
short, by the way. Still exciting. See, I was still able to enjoy the game, and
all I saw was a few minutes of it.
We
settled in to watch some of the Astros game at the end of the day. That wasn’t such a fun experience as far as
the Astros were concerned. But it was
baseball …
Psalms
127:1 says, “Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in
vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city,
the guards stand watch in vain.”
Father,
thank you for what those sore muscles were indicative of – a good day of hard
work. Keep on growing your grass and
bushes and trees. They make the world so
much nicer to be in. Amen.
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