You know something's not right when you're looking forward to Friday because it's trash pickup day. Life in rural Vermont is slow, but waiting for the big truck, that's pathetic. Once the excitement dies down, I get ready for the mail carrier. I don't really "get ready", but I do hold my breath that even an advertisement finds its way to my mailbox.
So, what else did Henry the Bulldog and I do today? We raked the yard, we threw the ball, we sent resumes, we threw the ball - you're getting the drift. Raking is a great form of exercise, I have 2 acres and am on my way to thin. The house is 126 years old and was vacant for some time before being restored and then purchased during one of my hormonally low days. Over the years, each tenant chose a site to throw, bury, burn their trash. This left millions, read - MILLIONS, of broken slivers of glass, tin cans, old tools and nails. Nails of every size, shape, square head, rusty, etc. I've filled the wheelbarrow (yes, I bought it immediately after buying the house), four or five times. I've dug up old clothes, old china, whole bottles and red bricks. Enough bricks to build at least a small garage.
During my venture into town yesterday, I bought plants. Every farm house should have potted plants on the front porch. I chose based on aesthetics alone, I don't know what they are, but they really look good. Yellows, all shades of pink, purple and white. If they survive, I'll post a picture.
Henry the Bulldog has been asleep for hours. If he didn't weigh 65 pounds I'd carry him upstairs and put him to bed. Instead, I think I'll just grab the biscuit jar and trust me, he'll follow.
So, what else did Henry the Bulldog and I do today? We raked the yard, we threw the ball, we sent resumes, we threw the ball - you're getting the drift. Raking is a great form of exercise, I have 2 acres and am on my way to thin. The house is 126 years old and was vacant for some time before being restored and then purchased during one of my hormonally low days. Over the years, each tenant chose a site to throw, bury, burn their trash. This left millions, read - MILLIONS, of broken slivers of glass, tin cans, old tools and nails. Nails of every size, shape, square head, rusty, etc. I've filled the wheelbarrow (yes, I bought it immediately after buying the house), four or five times. I've dug up old clothes, old china, whole bottles and red bricks. Enough bricks to build at least a small garage.
During my venture into town yesterday, I bought plants. Every farm house should have potted plants on the front porch. I chose based on aesthetics alone, I don't know what they are, but they really look good. Yellows, all shades of pink, purple and white. If they survive, I'll post a picture.
Henry the Bulldog has been asleep for hours. If he didn't weigh 65 pounds I'd carry him upstairs and put him to bed. Instead, I think I'll just grab the biscuit jar and trust me, he'll follow.
posted by Noe at 8:03 PM
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