Friday, December 27, 2013

Working Hard At Hardly Working

I love my yard guys. I do. They work hard. Plus, they're outside working hard in some crappy weather right now, a drizzly rain and cold deep enough to chill the bones. 

But there comes an hour when I want them to go home. I don't want to watch what they're doing. I don't want to worry that they're thirsty or cold. I don't want to keep track of their hours. I want to take a nap and not wake, confounded, at the sound of the doorbell. I don't want to answer that doorbell with my hair askew and my eyes puffy from sleep to answer questions I don't know the answer to.

They arrived at 8:45 this morning. And I see that they've done some beautiful work, moving plants around that I planted years ago, making them look landscaped and pretty. I made them mochas, gave them cookies, and just brought out some water and a couple of sandwiches. If they're working, I should be doing something useful. But now it's 1:33 in the afternoon and they just told me they need a couple more hours to unload and spread the gravel and bark that I asked them to bring.

Can't they just pile it up and spread it around on a different day?

Mike isn't worried about how much it costs. He's seeing the cost to our checking account. That isn't the problem. The work so desperately needed to get done and he's happy to have these guys do it. He didn't like doing it. I didn't do effective work in the yard either. I don't mind because Mike works hard at work and with the scouts. He helps around the house. He fixes the cars and keeps stuff in the house running. He's cheerful, hardworking, and patient, so it's worth paying someone to do the work he really doesn't enjoy.

My yard guys are cheerful and hardworking too, and I like talking to them in Spanish, expanding my tawdry vocabulary. So what's the problem?

Right now, I'm tired and I want them to go home. I want to be free to relax, not to worry they might casually look into the back window as they pass by in their progress. I don't want to bring more food or clean my house more completely while I watch them work. My mother raised me that it's rude to hang about while someone else is working. That's a hard ideal to live up to and now I'm tired. I want to go to the movies with Nick and Mike.

First, I want to take a short nap. Watching all this work is hard work. Is that ridiculous, or what?

Thank you for listening, jules

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