On Being Tired

For anyone who wants to be a homeowner (and isn’t yet) please know that homes do not do anything by themselves except deteriorate.  It is entirely up to their people to do everything for them – they are dependent, like a young child or a pet.  Today after work I worked on the outside of the house cleaning gutters and mowing the lawn.  It is spring here in Florida but since spring is when live oak trees shed their leaves, it is also fall.  Fall in the spring.  Mowing the lawn is almost like cutting hay in a field, except it’s furrows of leaves you end up with instead of hay.

We have close to 30 trees in the oneacrewoods, most of them oaks, and the leaf fall goes on for about six weeks, at least.  The new crop of leaves pushes the old ones off, and acorns drop at the same time.  This makes a tremendous amount of mess and it is my least favorite thing about having a yard full of shade trees.  What do you do with all these leaves? This is a question I have wrestled with for many years  and the best thing I’ve come up with is just to pile them somewhere and let them rot.  I use leaves for mulch wherever possible, and they look good enough but are terrible for sticking to your shoes and coming in the house with you.  I pile them around the base of their tree, or put them in a pile by the garden for comoposting. But there are really too many even for those uses. I have to blow them off the roofs and scoop them out of the gutters. It’s awful.

So after work, and then working more after work, I was tired. I was even glad that music practice was cancelled tonight so that I could be tired at home instead of someplace else.  So as I was fixing supper (which is also work) the husband comes home and guess what? He is tired. In my mind it is almost like a rule that only one person can be tired at a time. Whenever you or I start complaining about being tired, face it, it’s because we figure someone else might take care of us, or at least not make us do any more work.  Between my employer, who is always tired first before I get to say anything, and my husband who is tired the minute he steps in the door, I never get to be the tired one. Not fair. And it’s not as much fun to be tired in secret and not tell anyone. Just sayin…

Talk (write) to me.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s