You’ve come a long way baby!
(Does anyone remember the Virginia Slims ad? or am I just too old?)
I am loving my home. I get so much enjoyment out of stepping out the door onto our front porch and just looking at it and the garden. Sure, the back deck (or the poop deck as its affectionately known) is still a mess, it really needs a roof and bird evictions, and there’s still a healthy farm-like amount of crap around the place… but its home and its becoming beautiful – and I love it.
We went from this:
The deck is welcoming and cosy now. The potato vine has gone bezerk and provides dappled shade in one small area.
The plan is that when we roof the back deck we’ll just put more trellis on the corner and make it sort of like an arbour area where you can sit in dappled sunlight with plants growing around you. Perhaps a pink banksia rose… I’d love a purple potato vine but they’re not so hardy, and I’d love a jasmine but I’ve killed two of them so far.
Maybe I’ll stay away from them.
There is still much to do but at least I can say I’ve managed to do something over the Christmas break. I finished painting the front of the house where we had bare timber from moving the kitchen windows. I undercoated the enclosed porch area ready to paint. And I put up my corner brackets, something I’d been planning to do for the last couple of years.
Now, if I wasn’t such a clutz I’d be out there painting today. Top coating the enclosed area and all the window surrounds.
Instead I’m sitting in the ugly purple recliner trying to move as little as possible.
Why you ask?
I was climbing ladders, on uneven ground, for days painting and screwing in brackets and I was fine.
All I did was water the embankment yesterday and I think I’ve cracked a rib.
I need to rethink riding again… I don’t think I should get on anything with its own feet. I can’t be trusted on my own two feet.
Let me explain: the embankment is made up of old tyres. A bit redneck but in the spirit of recycling, which I’m into big time. Its a steep embankment, impossible to walk up at the best of times. The other day I’d walked along the top tossing down the tyres from the top line that I thought were unnecessary.
Obviously, I didn’t put them out of the way or stack them nicely. I left them where they fell.
So, while watering last night I was walking along the bottom of the embankment, a small channel which catches rainwater and directs it away from the house, when I tripped on one tyre, stepped back to get my balance and stepped on another, bounced off it and landed like a sack of potatos.
Hm… not quite. A sack of potatos keeps its shape.
I landed like a sack of potting mix. With a big splat, on my left side, on my left arm and on my ribs. My whole weight just kind of formed around and over my arm so that I had to kind of pry myself up.
After I’d caught my breath… ie about 3 minutes of moaning and groaning in pain.
It probably took me 5 minutes to stand up and pick up the hose again. I’d been lying in the ditch of course so of course I was covered in mud.
Like a trooper, I kept watering. It had to be done, right?
Then I went into the house and sooked to Wayne while I changed and washed the gravel off my arm.
The elbow is bruised but doesn’t hurt. In fact, the right elbow (which was nowhere near the squash zone) still hurts more than the left, but the bruising is impressive.
Its my ribs that hurt. And the weight of my left breast. Youch. (Wayne kindly offered his support. Pun intended.)
I can breath but deep breaths hurt and moving hurts.
I’ve had broken ribs before. Many times.
You don’t want to know.
There’s nothing to be done but rest and patience. So, whether its soft tissue damage or a broken rib, I just have to wait it out.
I still have a week off work and I had so much to do.
PS. I watch too much TV and have a head full of quotes and movie trivia.