Do you know the feeling where you spend a month and a half on one project and you give it everything you have and then some just so you can finally step back and say with satisfaction that it is done and you made it?
And then do you know the feeling where life shows up and destroys that project?
So it rained like a bitch shit ton, and guess what happens when you take really, really dry ground and then wet really quickly. You get this.
I was walking the dog, trying not to get wet by skirting the mud puddles. It of course had been raining like a crazy demon the past two days and the dog was happy to be outside sniffing things. Well we walked up the driveway and turned off into the wood, and that's when I saw it.
There was the initial flood of despair, followed by a rather rational discussion in the back of my mind if I could just deny this had happened for a while.
It decided no.
So I walked, blank and zombie like, back up to the house. Scott was working by the sheds, trying to fix the weed eater. His back was to me, and I had to cross the lawn to reach him. I had this sense that I was about to ruin his day. Ruin it hard core. That with every heavy step I was taking across the waterlogged grass I was one step closer to taking his happiness and smashing it on the ground.
I reached him and took a deep breath.
Then I smashed his happiness all over the ground. After that brief moment where his brain decided if it could deny this problem, we walked back down the drive and looked at it.
Scott was more optimistic then me. Pointing out that wall had stayed together all the way down and that we should be able to just add more rocks on top of it.
Oh fucking boy.
Well at this point, drinking was right out, because I had to work the next day. I went inside and did the only thing I could do. I took a motherfucking nap and prayed to god that things would be better when I woke up.
So now I need more rocks.
You know, maybe it's not too late to deny it after all.
What were we talking about?