At times, life seems to be humming along, and at others, it seems to be hopping with frustration.
Since sometime in March, my computer has been acting up. It didn’t actually die, but sometimes it had to be revived. I kept putting it off, hoping that I could get caught up on my bills and afford to get it fixed.
On the way home from picking up the computer, my tire hit something in the road. I heard the clunk underneath, but just parked it and didn’t think any more of it until a couple of hours later, when I went out to the garage to leave, and I found the tire flatter than a pancake.
I have never changed a tire. I haven’t had a flat tire in at least nine years, but whenever I have had one, I always called AAA or a family member, depending on the situation. One of my granddaughters happened to come over the next day, and we talked about giving it a try, but we were stifled when we couldn’t find the spare tire.
Now I know where the spare is, I still don’t ever plan to change a tire, but let’s suffice it to say that the flat tire is now fixed, and if it or another tire goes flat, I will be able to tell the rescuers where the spare is.
I had plans for last week Saturday. I was going to be home all day, but I had a goal of cleaning up the weeds and volunteer raspberry plants around the landscaped area of the house. On the front side, I did my best to weed out anything I could get my hands on and pull. By the time I got to the corner, my legs and back were protesting from being bent over. I forged ahead to the west side, and then the back of the house.
I took a rest somewhere in between there, and it took some encouragement from me, to keep me motivated and keep going. I tried to tell myself it could wait till another day, but somehow I knew it was now or never.
In retrospect I should have stopped and left the east side alone. Instead, hands encased in leather gloves, I went to pull a raspberry bush from next to the gas meter. It was a tough one, and I couldn’t pull it. Just as I turned to grab the clippers, a hoard of wasps started heading toward me. In a split second my brain processed the fact that under the meter was a round, gray wasp hive, and I had intruded on their territory.
Suddenly I was surrounded by an angry swarm of wasps, and I was doing my best to run away. Meanwhile, they were doing their best to sting me, one went right through the leather glove. It wasn’t until I got into the garage that they slacked off. I went for the wasp spray, and did my best. However, there were too many still hanging around for me to stick to that long enough.
A day will come when I will once again do battle with the wasps; an early, cool morning, seems a good time. For now, I feel blessed that I only got stung five times, and that I am not allergic.
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