I've Hit Rock Bottom

What's up players? For those of you who live in the American section of Readerland, I'd like to welcome you all back to the work week. Here in New England, we had an absolutely gorgeous Memorial Day weekend. For those of me who took Friday off, the weekend was just a little bit better (approximately 33% better).

You might be asking yourself how I could have had such a nice weekend and claim to have hit rock bottom. I mean that literally, not figuratively. You see, I set out to dig the holes for the footings for my new porch this weekend. I had my posthole digger, a big steel pipe for prying and knocking stones loose, some shovels, and myriad other gardening tools. I got about a foot and a half down when I hit a rock. A little work and I got that bastard out. Another two inches and I hit a bigger rock. That one took some persuading, but it eventually lifted out of the hole. "I must be home free now" I thought to myself.

I thought wrong.

I hit a bigger rock, about 30" down into the hole. I pried and I pried and I dug and I scraped to no avail. Finally I called it quits for the day, and had to break down and buy a pinch bar (a big ass hardened steel bar with a chisel on one end and a point on another).

Monday morning I set out with my newly-enhanced arsenal of tools and - try as I might - could not get that freaking rock out. I spent about 2-2.5 hours digging and prying until my back was sore from lifting and from the burgundy sunburn I earned from hunching over a hole all day. And my chest was sore from laying in the debris of my jack-hammering escapade a few years back. You see, around the hole I was digging lay all the little chunks of concrete I didn't bother cleaning up. This weekend those chunks found their way in between my ribs, on my ribs, and all about my collarbone. Yup, my chest hurts.

Before you ask, no I haven't looked into what it would cost to have someone dig the holes for me. I'm a do-it-yourselfer and this qualifies as something I can do myself. Besides, if someone had the proper equipment, he would be driving it up onto my beautiful lawn and I'll take a sunburn and sore chest over that. It's looking like I just have to make the hole bigger to buy me some extra real estate around that rock, then I should be good to go.

In other news, I was over at the 'COW ranch last night for dinner. Afterwards, I had to "use the facilities" AKA the bushes out back. The mosquitos were starting to awaken and no sooner was I down to business when one landed - you guessed it - right where no mosquito should ever land. Per the directions in the wildly popular song (There's a skeeter on your peeter, whack it off...) I threw caution to the wind and started swinging. My defensive strike was right on target and I was neither bitten nor peed on! Score one for the Cootster.

Well folks, time to get to it. I have a bike ride tonight and hopefully a rock digging afterwards. Good times, good times.

Over and out,
Old Coot