Warning labels exist for a reason, especially on pill bottles. When my stuff says "take at bedtime," I really ought to heed my doctor's warning. After trying too hard to pull weeds in the garden and do an outsized amount of bending and reaching this afternoon, I took a muscle relaxer at 4 o'clock. It kicked in about an hour later, and by quarter past 6 I had no choice but to go take a short nap. I was awoken at 7, and I thought that I'd had enough sleep to get through the rest of the evening. I was wrong. I crawled into the hot tub and found out that my fear of drowning is far less powerful than my desire for a nice snooze in the reclining lounge seat part of the pond. I got at least another 45 minutes (or more) of sleep with my head firmly cradled, so that I didn't slip into the water. Doesn't mean it was the safest or smartest thing to do. I wouldn't have done it if I had been alone. (If I had been alone, no one would have woken me up while I was socked out in the bed.) I'm still groggy. And my back is only marginally "relaxed."
We traded flowers with one of our closest friends this afternoon. It had been her idea to dig up all of those raspberries and blackberries we got a week ago, and we had gotten twice as much as we needed when we went, so that she could have some. She came to get her share today, but on the way she stopped off and spoke with someone who was hacking out a bunch of irises from his yard. He intended to just destroy them with a shovel, because they had taken over. She stopped him from murdering them with a garden implement, and made him dig up several clumps properly. She split those with us, so to keep things relatively even, I bartered with her even more. I gave her four of the dahlia rhizomes that I hadn't yet planted. I enjoy the idea of flowers as currency, trading them with friends, so that our gardens are related in a literal genetic sense. Forget Pokemon. I want to collect bulbs, seeds, rhizomes of all colors and varieties. Gotta catch 'em all.
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