Digging Fence Post Holes is Pure Agony.

So yesterday we had been working on fencing in the rest of the garden. For those of you who have ever fenced anything before, you know our terrible, terrible pain. Now on the first day Scott laid out where he wanted each hole to go in bright yellow florescent paint, which was by far the easiest and most satisfying step. Because the next step was digging the motherfucking holes.

You know, the holes that were filled with motherfucking rocks.

If you remember back to my previous post, I talked about various methods of rock removal, pulling the rock out, bashing the rock apart, or moving the whole goddamned hole. Well the best thing about this is that we did not have to move any goddamned holes. Which by that I mean that we had to cut one corner four inches shorter because that rock was not going anywhere. At all.

I should also take this time to point out that Scott hurt his wrist so I was doing most of the heavy work. And also my gloves disintegrated at some point in this process meaning my hands are covered in angry red blisters that hate my guts for bringing them into this world.

At lunch I put New Skin Liquid Bandage on my hands like it was going out of style because at that point I had found another pair of gloves and updated my status to we might finish this task today. On a side note, have you ever used New Skin Liquid Bandage before? It works pretty good, but don't take that as an endorsement because it hurts like holy hell to put it on. If you read the bottle it says 'may sting' on it in tiny, tiny print.

That is a lie.

Okay. You know that scene in Lord of the Rings Return of the King where Gollum bites Frodo's hand and gets the ring, only to topple into the volcano and burn to death while destroying the ring in the process? Yeah, it feels like that, only localized to one area. I had no need to use New Skin for a few years, so I kinda forgot applying it was like a practice drill for a bunch of bee stings.

But I digress.

Anyhow, it pretty much took us an entire day to dig eleven holes that were shoulder length deep. And also I fucked up my back because girls are not made to lift a heavy ass metal pry bar up and smash it down all day. After the first hole, which always goes well to lure us into a false sense of security, it was a motherfucking triathlon of rock smashing. There was the hole that was filled with huge rocks all stacked on top of each other so to get one you had to get them all, the hole where the whole bottom was one solid rock and we took turns smashing through it,* and the hole filled with the giant rock that we just had to bail on four inches early because all we were making was sparks.

It was one of those days where you stagger back inside and look at the clock and it's like seven and you stare at it stupidly because how can it be so late when you only accomplished one thing?

Yeah. It was one of those days.

One of those motherfucking days.

*I'm not fucking kidding here. We reduced that rock to powder and rock chips and pulled it up piece by tiny piece. That rock was a survivor is what I am saying.