February 26, 2004

02.26.2004

Under threat of loss of friendship I will update. I should tell you about the conversations that were going on when the WildChild and I were moving all that dirt...

ME:
Child, we need to go to the store. As the star of the Best Wife In The Fucking World Show, I need to make sure that all the planters are ready to go for Spring. Let's go!

WC:
Uh yeah, whatever mom.

ME
(While roaming around outside looking at big bags of dirt):
Look, we can get ten of these big bags. They'll fit in the back of Dad's truck, right? Help me find a cart and load up the dirt.

WC:
Whatever mom.

ME
(Realizing that each bag is FIFTYFUCKINGSEVEN pounds):
Um wow, these are a little heavy. Maybe if we each take a side we can just slide them onto the cart?

ME
(thinking):
Damnit, why didn't I make John do this before he left? Oh yeah, we were too broke to buy this much dirt.

WC:
*Just glares at me and helps without talking*

ME
(trying to pull the wobbly cart that now has almost 600 pounds of dirt on it):
Let's take this inside so that I can pay....oh look! Roses!! *ignores cart with 600 pounds of dirt and now with a sulking teenager on top*

WC:
*glare*

ME:
Look, I know I have six more on the way but really, these are so pretty! I can't just NOT buy them. I'll have this whole pink/white rose thing happening right outside the living room windows. You'll love it, I promise! Oh...wait, you'll be gone.

WC:
Whatever mom.

RUDE CHECKER
(sneering, I swear!):
Ma'am, you realize that all that dirt is NOT for a vegetable garden, right?

ME
(staring...blankly):
Well then, it is probably a good thing I'm not planting vegetables in it then! I can leave out the back gate of the garden center, right? I parked back there and I can't imagine trying to wheel this all out through the store.

RC:
...because vegetables won't grow in that dirt. And why do you need ten bags, anyway?

ME:
I need ten bags because my husband built me some beautiful raised planters so that I can pretend to garden while he is away. I'm NOT planting vegetables in this dirt. Can I leave out the back please?

RC:
hmph....I guess I can have someone open the gate up for you.

ME:
Thank you....we'll go wait out there now.

RC:
Oh, you're going out there now? I guess I can go open it for you if I have to.

*walks us to the back gate, watching the WildChild and I struggle to get it back outside without knocking down an aisle or running over a small child. Doesn't offer to help.*

ME:
Thank you for opening the gate. Is there someone around perhaps that can help us load the dirt into our truck?

RC:
No. Just leave the cart outside the gate and I'll come get it later.

*He walks back off and locks the gate behind him.*

ME:
C'mon WC, let's get this dirt into the truck so we can take it home!

WC
(glaring again):
Whatever mom.

We get all ten bags loaded up. The entire time I am really missing John. Not because I love him or anything...the man is strong, damnit! He'd have loaded up those bags in half the time it took the two of us. We are finally loaded and ready to drive home. We arrive home and the horrifying thought strikes me. We have to now UNload all the dirt. Despair starts to set in. Agony can't be far behind, right? I come up with a plan...

ME:
WC, go in the back and get the big tarp that is folded up. We can put four or five bags at a time on the tarp and then together we can drag it around to the back.

WC:
Uh huh...sure.

ME
(unloading one bag at a time and getting it onto the grass):
Let's just roll these onto the tarp. *oof*

We nudge and roll and pull four bags of dirt onto the tarp. I figure two heavy loads, one lighter load...then we're done, right?

WC:
It won't move!

ME:
It won't move!

We realize that there is just too much dirt on the tarp and we start to carry them one by one into the back. I really start missing John again. A lot. A real lot. So much in fact that now I'm mad at him. Why do I end up doing this crap? I'm the one that de-thatched the lawn. I'm the one that then had to rake all that crap up. I'm the one that has to carry all this dirt. Fucker! I hope it is cold there! I hope it snows! (sidenote: It really did snow on him in Iraq. I'm still waiting for the pictures)

There isn't a lot of conversation for the next hour. We laid out some heavy plastic to protect the siding on the house. We drug large bags of dirt close to the sides of the planter and stabbed at them with scissors until they opened. We live in Washington. The Pacific NorthWe(s)t. Imagine my surprise when I figure out that we've been carrying bags of WET dirt. Imagine my dismay. Imagine my anger. Imagine...well imagine whatever the hell you want.

We emptied all ten bags into the largest of the planters. I was very, VERY sad to figure out that we needed to go back to the store.

ME:
C'mon WC. I'm not going to let the sunshine go to waste. We're going back to the store.....by the way, do I smell as bad as I think I smell right now?

WC:
Yes.


We drove back to the store with the windows open. Yes, I was hoping to "air out" a little bit so as to not offend while shopping some more. We went straight back to the garden center and found someone who looked more important than the assmonkey working the register. We were pleasantly surprised when we figured out that he would not only load up all the dirt we wanted, he would find someone else to put it in the truck for us! I got smart this time. I not only asked for ten more bags of the same dirt, but an additional five bags of dirt that would be good for the vegetables. Would someone please tell me when dirt stopped being dirt?

The conversation pretty much stopped between the WC and I. She was pissed that I was making her help. I was pissed that John didn't do all of this before he left.

Someone please remind me that the next time he wants (ok, or NEEDS) to leave for an extended period of time, I should hire a strapping young thing to do things like move and carry heavy shit for me. If he looks good doing those things in a thong, all the better!

Posted by rowEn at 02:39 PM | Comments (4)