baby, i can still dig you a hole

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yes, the saga continues.  it was dig a hole for a plant again time today.  it was either today or g/f would have been up at 6am outside fucking digging and doing shit and waking up the neighbors.  of course, they do shit and wake us up at all hours but then i wasn’t raised to be like, um, elvis.  big time drifting. 

one of the original holes i had dug needed to be dug out larger so another try at hydrangea growing could be attempted by my g/f.  the original crop lasted about a month before they were off to met their plant god and the local landfill vishnu.

it was another of those ‘you don’t have to do anything’ deals.  i’ll do it.  i’m like, no, it’s ok, i’ll help or do it.  your knee is bothering you and if you do it, it will take days.  no, no, i can do it.  yeah, whatever. 

so it’s off to wally’s mart for some ‘good soil’ and other shit.  i’m like the prisoner of zenda on these trips.  stuck in some tiger cage while g/f wanders around looking at everything we vaguely might need.  oh, by the way, early shoppers, wally’s mart has their christmas stuff out already.  what the fuck is up with that? 

so we finally make it to the garden area and she wants a 3 cubic ft bag of this soil stuff.  i’m like, ok, it might be too much.  she’s like, that’s ok IF it is i can use it.  the damn bag weighs a good 50 pounds.  plus, it’s nice and awkward and i almost dump the shopping cart while putting the bag on it.  g/f is perplexed that they don’t have hydrangeas.  i tell her that in a month or so they are gonna go dormant.  maybe this isn’t the time of year to plant them.  there’s mumblings about going to the only large nursery left in these parts to score a big hydrangea and it’s over in san gabriel. 

we get back and i start the hole.  for new readers i can dig a hole.  no crappy cone shaped pieces of shit but a nice clean proper hole with straight sides.  i don’t fuck around.  holes are not something to be trifled with, no sir.  of course for this go round there are more tree roots because this hole must be bigger and there’s a tree a foot away from the damn hole.  i’m digging and she’s taking the spoils and dumping them willy nilly around some other bushes.  the hole is not big enough is the word from her.  so i make it bigger.  i finally talk her into accepting the size of the hole that i’ve excavated. 

the hole is so damn big the 3 cu ft bag of soil is not enough to fill the fucker up.  nope.  so now we have to bring some of the ‘crappy’ soil back to mix with the ‘non crappy’ soil just so the hole will be filled in or up, as the case may be.  yeah, well, of course, let’s do shit twice.  plus the added bonus of no rocks.  period.  allowed in the hole.  sweet mother of buddha, grant me peace.  i’m working like a madman and g/f says she’s tired and wanders off after she says put the bricks  for the border like this. 

i start on that and find i need the limb loppers to cut a root.  i turn around and all the tools are gone save for the pick i’ve been using.  she’s picked everything up and has gone inside for a nice iced drink of cranberry juice.  i get the loppers and tell her we aren’t done yet and come back outside.  i know the brick border thingy will need to pass inspection.  if it isn’t right i want to fix it now rather than say, 7pm this evening when she wanders outside and sees that it isn’t what she wants. 

everything passed inspection.  thankfully.  even though i’m very good at it i’m really tired of digging holes.  it’s just not fun anymore.  sadly, even the old zen like hole digging trance didn’t kick in today.  guess i’m getting old or something. 



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