Mud

I could bore you to tears with how bad my allergies got last week, how I contemplated on whether or not I might be turning into a zombie, and how that turned into a discussion about whether I might be more interested (as a zombie) in wine or just the sommelier.

No, I won't tell you about the combination of medications I've been taking, or the fact that I lost two days pretending to be a slug.  Or, how I got to attend a birthday party wearing a mask over my nose and mouth.

No, I will direct this entry to what is foremost on my mind.  Mud.  Because, April showers bring May flowers.

I feel virtuous.  I spent an hour today clearing two garden beds for seeds.  I'll be planting beets and carrots and lettuce and kale, swiss chard and onions and peas.  Tomorrow, I'll add a barrow of lovely compost to mix it all up, and then press seeds into the soil in a semi-organized fashion.  But today, I cleared the beds of all remaining vegetation, I turned all the soil thoroughly, and I picked out the usual spring harvest of rocks.  Amy wandered around, keeping me company.  Even Elasta-girl came by, scratching where I cleared.  I hope she found lots of naughty bugs to eat.  

But, I did all this in the rain.  And it was raining most of the night.  Two words:  fashion nightmare.  From my head to the soles of my boots.

I wore my pretty red raincoat with a ball cap to keep the rain from my eyes.  There is mud all over the hood, and a bit on the brim of the cap.

My raincoat itself looks as though I lay down and wallowed in the mud.  I am not certain how that happened, since I was always on two feet.  But there is mud on the shoulders, up and down the arms, all along the sides, and smears all over the front.  The bum is still red.

My pants, of which only the knee to mid thigh were exposed, had mud on the knees, behind the knees, and a smear about where the coat ended.

The muckers... Well, they are no longer a nice dark chocolate.  They now look like lumpy milk chocolate.

And the lined leather gloves have fat fingers now.  Fat with encrusted mud.

What's that you say?  Pics or it didn't happen?

It happened.  But there will be no pics.  I wouldn't want word to get out about how bad my hair looked.