Getting old bites the big one. Working this weekend (actual manual labor) was not tough -- it's not particularly challenging to use a power washer for pete's sake -- but two full days of it kicked my butt. Big time.
Standing there spraying, moving the nozzel back and forth, over and over and over. Hauling the hoze a few feet at a time. Not too challenging, right? My body would disagree. On Saturday night I began to stiffen up. I was asleep by 9 p.m., exhausted. When I got up during the night I could barely get out of bed, let alone walk to the facilities -- oh the pain (even my fingers were killing me). Getting up Sunday morning was even more challenging. Thank goodness Rico was offering french toast for breakfast, or I might not have gotten out of bed.
A few ibuprofen and we were back at it Sunday morning. Rico manned the power equipment for the first couple of hours, and Nate and I trimmed plants, scrubbed furniture, and lounged on the deck chairs in the sun (just for a few minutes, really). When the guys left for baseball practice it was my turn again. Power up!
Rico filled up the gas tank in the power washer before he left for practice, and my brother filled it up again when he stopped over a bit later, and I was hard at it for just over an hour and half. Thank goodness the gas finally ran out! Don't get the wrong idea here. I'm not incapable of filling the gas tank by myself, but I really hate the stink of gas, and let's face it, it was a good excuse to call it quits for the day.
The good news? I slept like a baby again on Sunday. Better news? The pool patio is looking great and will be open for the season soon. Ahhhhh. Summer. I can't wait.
The irony here? It's not even my pool deck, patio, plants, or furniture. Ha Ha! (Thank goodness for siblings who share their pool -- I'm a happy volunteer when we get to enjoy the pool all summer long.)
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