My ass is busted. This weekend I got so much crap accomplished I thought I was another person. Normally I’m something of a procrastinator. OK I’m a professional level procrastinator with a lazy streak. If there was a trade organization for procrastination I would be the president, only we would never get around to having meetings. So when I saw myself actually getting things done for once it was hard to believe.
A foot of snow with drifts up to my knees and weather at night dipping down below zero, no problem. My new snow-blower worked fine, although it’ll take some getting used to. I kept getting hung up on frozen rocks in the driveway, maybe I’ll set the skid plates lower. I also didn’t realize until I was done that I had my reading glasses on the whole time. No wonder why things seemed blurry.
I also had to shovel off the deck, and make a little trail to the woodpile. From the woodpile I moved a couple of days worth into the house because I didn’t want to be going outside in the middle of the night when it’s ten below zero (-22 Celsius for you folks that insist on using the metric system, like that’s ever going to catch on).
Let’s see, what else? I made cheese omelets, fed and watered the chickens, baby got her bath (it’s an ordeal, trust me), put plastic film up on a bunch of windows, knocked off some other honey-do items, did laundry–well you get the picture.
Tonight I’m still a little sore. The fire is cranking and the house is all toasty. As I thought about the weekend I remembered a story from Harvey Pekar’s “American Splendor” comic where he fixes a clogged toilet and feels overwhelming pride in this simple accomplishment. When you have depression problems it’s sometimes hard just to get dressed, so yeah when I get a bunch of stuff done it’s a big deal. I may even celebrate. Now if I could just get that short story finished…