Fever

I happened to get some sort of tummy bug during our first real heat wave of this strange summer. And silly old me still persisted in the garden at the onset, foolishly thinking that it was just the heat that was getting to me. Wrong move Lol. So, after a fairly miserable few days of endless complaints, I began to feel like a human being again and trotted off to the garden to do some odd jobs that John never does. Wrong again. I should have rested a few more days. But I trotted out, a bit slower than usual, determined to water my poor giant tomato plants that needed hydrating badly as did the rest of the entire front garden that was almost panting. It was a rather daunting task for somebody in a weakened condition. But the thing is that my hose isn’t long enough to get to all the spots I want to cover, so we’ve attached another type of hose to it that looks a bit like a stretchy hair band, but it’s more like a mini water blaster. Well in that feeble state, as I dragged the hoses to and fro they disconnected right in the middle of my watering. So, without wanting to go all the way back to the spigot to shut off the water and then come all the way back to the hoses to reconnect them, I brazenly attempted to connect the two without turning the tap off. I had managed this feat occasionally before and tried it again by bending the one with the water rushing into it as I tried to force them together while clutching the connector to tighten them once I shoved one into the other. Wrong. Actually, the cool blast that came out hitting my face, my hair and my clothing felt quite refreshing on the hottest day of our summer. But dripping with it was particularly humbling and undignified as I hurried to that tap to shut it off. I was in no mood by then to water since it actually almost knocked me over by surprise on the slippery brick pathway that does need water blasting. Normally watering is one of my favorite pastimes here. Not on this day. I probably looked a bit like Lucille Ball when she and Ethel worked at the chocolate candy factory as the conveyor belt sped up. All I needed were about three extra hands.

So, the moral of the story is to get my husband to do ALL the watering in future on days when my moods and my temperature are questionable. During my respite I can eat unlimited bonbons and watch really stupid reruns and write to old friends I’ve ignored for ages. Or not.