I'm not sure why I bothered to get out of bed this morning. I don't think I had a positive influence on the march of time, and I'm fairly certain the same is true vice versa. I started this morning with a Monkey's Paw kind of dream, where my younger daughter insisted I walk over to a restaurant, without asking any questions, and as I walked there, I realized that her father was probably there waiting to surprise me. The dream went south from there, because the reason he was home was that he had been injured and sent back to recuperate. It started with him missing the rest of the thumb that the table saw shortened for him several years ago (in real life), and the longer it went on, the greater percentage of his limbs were gone. I'm not good at dream interpretations, but I don't think it meant much more than starting my day with a really strong feeling of unease. Once I finally got a chance to chat with my man, I was only slightly kidding when I asked him to avoid power tools until I had enough time to distance myself from this creepy dream.
I really wanted my experiment to work. I wanted to believe that a sturdy deck brush, a strong concentration of Simple Green, and some elbow grease would work to remove the neon green mold that showed back up about an hour after my man put away the power washer last year. I went over a small section, rinsed it, and went over it again, and it still looks like crap. I tried another section with a bleach based mold remover spray, with just a little brushing and rinsing, and it looks brand new. I don't think I should use much bleach outside, so close to my plants and trees, but I have to find something that will get rid of the mold. The man suggests that I'm not going to be able to weasel out of using the power washer. I'm afraid he may be right.
I'm at the end of a clumsy, uncoordinated, unproductive day. I keep tripping on things, dropping and knocking stuff over, and generally being a bumbling fool. I haven't felt comfortable in my own skin (and not just the part that still smells like bleach). I couldn't even get out of the car at the grocery store without majorly clocking my head on the doorframe. I'm ready to call it a day. I have to go to bed early tonight anyway, since I have to be at physical therapy at 8 tomorrow morning, and the main artery between here and there usually moves at about 10 miles an hour at that time of day. Time to hit the hay and hope that tomorrow runs better than today.
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