Written in spring of 2013
It seems that Mother Nature this year is in a bit of a snit. Oh sure, the snow has pretty much melted, giving us some sort of spring-like appearance outside…but don’t be fooled! It is still far from the ideal conditions we have grown to expect come April. Last year we’d already had a mini-summer by this time.
For the last four years. I have written an article based on spring, and the joys of said season. To be sure, springtime is one of the most wondrous of times for man or beast. Our land is in renewal, throwing off the constraints of winter, awakening from its slumber, energizing us once again…..blah-blah-blah. I often get carried away doing stuff when spring hits, most often getting myself into some sort of trouble.
Hold that thought. I’ll come back to it.
Most of us have probably heard the term ‘I zigged when I should have zagged.’ It’s essentially a way of saying that you made the wrong move at the right time. Like taking the wrong turn at Albuquerque. I zig when I really should zag all the time, most especially in spring. I used to chalk it up to youthful enthusiasm, but I’m no longer going to kid myself there. At 49, it’s just plain enthusiasm. And why should this year be any different?
So… back to getting carried away in spring. And zagging instead of zigging. When the snow melts, and the grass begins to turn green again, there are certain leftover reminders of winter that present themselves. I have three dogs. They do their business at the back of the house and on walks. The walks are taken care of with little black bags. The back yard, well….it snows, and they are generally forgotten. Until spring comes along, the snow goes away, thus presenting us with a mine field of a yard.
I’ll get to my point soon.
The mine field gets cleaned up. It’s a difficult couple of hours, with much griping, mostly on my part. But it is eventually clean. And it all ends up in a bag, nice and neat. And then we go to throw it in the garbage can that I have beside the garage, the same can I put out in the fall for my kids to throw the little black bags that get filled up on the walks with the dogs. The can I forgot all about, the one I assumed that the kids were emptying it on a regular basis.
I’m almost there.
When I discovered that the can is full of little decomposing black bags, my kids saw that I was a little upset. I was even more upset when I find out that the rain was also going into the can, thus making it weigh about 300 lbs. This is a 300 lb stew. A poo stew, if you will. There was no way I could lift this. But being a very crafty person, I came up with a plan: I would drill come holes in the bottom of the can, let it drain out, and then bring the much lighter refuse container to my bin at the shop. And all would be back to normal, right? Very crafty!
I have now arrived at my point.
I lifted the now ‘empty of water’ poo stew canister to put into the back of my truck, showing off my brute strength to my son Mackie, holding it up for ten seconds or so. And as I am doing this, I am slow to realize that the can still isn’t totally empty of water….yet….although it is still draining…onto my legs. In short, I am being lightly sprayed with poo juice.
This is where I zigged when I should have zagged. Not because I am now all stinky, although this was pretty bad. The ‘zig’ is that I ignored this and went to buy some stuff at the store. I really didn’t think I smelled that bad. But by the looks I was getting by the cashier, I was, sadly, wrong.
I sure wish I would have zagged.
Bill's Musings 