It's probably a good thing I didn't have any solid plans to march in any pride events this weekend, if there were any going on close to me (I've been living under a rock... I really don't know if there were). Right now, I can barely stand. Marching is right out. I had a bit of a whoopsie-daisy. I was digging out the old gas mower from the shed, so I could give it away now that I have my shiny new electric mower. Our wheelbarrow was on top of it, nose down, handles up. It was slightly off the ground, maybe eight inches or so. I gently adjusted the wheelbarrow, only concentrating on doing no damage to the mower as I moved it off of it. I probably should have been more focused on not damaging myself. The wheelbarrow slipped off the top of the mower and dropped down, the rolled steel edge smashing right across my big toe nail. I knew immediately I'd hurt myself, but I had to go through the entire day with the feeling of it all just simmering and fermenting. I've tensed up everything all the way up to the knee. I can barely walk, and driving to Boulder nearly did me in. But after the whole day of being a giant baby about it, I am absolutely disappointed that there wasn't a big purple bruise across my toes. There was nothing visible at all from the outside. I feel cheated.
The old gas lawn mower was the first salvo in a major clean-out effort I've started over the last week. I wish I had started before the weather suddenly heated up, but at least I'm at it now. I took three bags of clothes to the thrift store not far from here. If I know what's good for me, I'll triple that amount before I'm done. I have a box half full of other junk to leave the premises as soon as I can finish sorting. I'm going through everything, and it's time for hard decisions. I'm not quite at the "hold it for a few seconds, and if it doesn't give you joy, get rid of it" stage, but I'm very close to that. I need space. I need less to clean. Honestly, that last is probably the driving factor.
A few days ago I was bragging about how wonderful my flowers are doing. Today I'm wishing I had locked the dogs in the garage while I ran errands and went to Boulder. The new neighbor next door had friends over all day. (I've only just now seen them for the first time, after six months. Apparently they are bikers?) Turns out the extra people were more than my dogs could bear. When I went out to water the new hanging baskets, I found the rose and coreopsis next to the fence on that side had been trampled into submission. I really don't know whether the coreopsis will come back. When I bought the new one off the clearance rack, I hadn't intended to drop it into a hole where the old one grew before. Flower death always upsets me.
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