With 70-degree temps predicted later this week, I'll be grabbing my gardening gloves and a sturdy rake as I begin my annual Overzealous Kult Spring Yard Spruce-Up Extravaganza.
Yes, after being somewhat sloth-like this winter (and it wasn't even a typical frozen-tundra-ish Iowa winter) I will insist on overdoing it as the first fresh breath of spring breezes through our little rural town.
It's inevitable.
I will throw myself into cleaning up the yard, and in doing so, throw out my back.
I will continue to hobble about, grimacing with pain, while washing windows, sweeping the porch, dusting off the porch swing and painting at least one room of the house with what little bodily movement I can still muster. Eventually I will collapse in a crumpled heap by the front door. That is where I have the best chance of someone finding me and dragging me to the couch where I will spend the next few days attached to my heating pad and eating Aleve.
That's just how I roll the first warm days of spring.
And so, in a break from my usual prose, I offer you a little poetry in celebration and wild anticipation of feeling those first rays of sunshine on my soon-to-be-aching shoulders:
A Sloth's Lament
Spring! It's Spring!
So I cleaned up the yard!
Spent an hour rakin' leaves!
Man, I worked real hard.
I swept off the porch
And I picked up some sticks...
Haven't had that much energy
Since the age of six!
Thought I'd wash the car!
Paint the kitchen after dinner!
With all that movin'
Bound to be a size thinner...
Then I took a quick break,
Sat my rear on the swing.
Tried to stand moments later,
Couldn't move a darn thing!
M'legs and arms were stiff,
My back was even stiffer;
Had to pull myself up
By leanin' on my Swiffer...
To make matters worse,
In my butt I got a splinter;
Gol dang, I'm outta shape!
'Twas a long, lazy winter!
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