Fact: I am physically incapable of taking it easy.
Fact: My shoulder is still not healed from my accident almost a month ago. I can't use it to reach around my back and grab my towel to dry my back so I just kind of throw it across my body and hope that my skin gets dry enough to pull clothes on. Oh, and I can't really pull up my pants with both hands. And trying to push myself up off the floor with that hand? Impossible.
Saturday morning we decided to dedicate our precious free time to landscaping. A few weeks ago I got a little crazy with the round-up...killing our perfectly fine front lawn in spots so I could plant a whole row of pretty pink Peonies.
See? I'm a total blogger. I love peonies.
I couldn't stand one more day of ugly dead grass staring back at me whenever I walked up to my front porch, so we rented a tiller, bought bags of compost and got to work.
But I was really no help at all. I defeatedly asked my husband to lift, haul and perform all the hard manual labor while I sat my butt in the dirt and attempted to pull year old dead grass out of a chain-link fence with my left hand. I was useless. And really, really frustrated.
I love to work hard in my yard and I consider it one of the best traits my parents bestowed upon me. But I just felt oppressed by my shoulder.
And I was even more annoyed and frustrated in the middle of the night when I had to wake up and soak in a tub to soothe my screaming muscles.
Turns out recovery is every bit as hard as everyone promised it would be.