Rake Till it Hurts
At the moment I am, like a lot of you, trying to motivate myself to go outside and clean up my yard. It’s getting to be an embarrassment. It’s coated with a thick layer of leaves that need to be raked, bagged, and put out on the curb. They’re making a mess of everything. They’ve covered the lawn, the flowerbeds, the bushes, and they’re well on their way to clogging up my gutters. It’s not a job I want to do, but it is unfortunately a job that won’t do itself, so it’s up to me to make it happen. I haven’t done it yet because up until now I keep going to bed at night hoping that a violent wind storm will come along and blow all the leaves away and I will be spared the dreaded chore. Anybody who has ever held out this ridiculous hope knows full well that wind only makes the situation worse. When I wake in morning, I can clearly see that not only have the leaves not blown away, there are noticeably more of them than there were the day before.
If you’re thinking that I sound a little bit lazy and just need to get off my duff and get it done, I should tell you that I have good reason to dread this job. Dealing with leaves has led to some troubling orthopedic issues for me. Some years back I decided for some unfathomable reason that it would be a good idea to get up on a ladder and clean the gutters myself. To make a long story short, in the process of attempting this, I reached one way, the ladder slid the other way, and I ended up in the emergency room with a broken bone.
And then there was last year when I looked upon my leaf covered lawn and realized that I had waited much too long, and the yard was knee-deep in leaves. I decided that it was time to act. I could put it off no longer. I then convinced myself that the fresh air and exercise would do me good, so I located the key to my shed and opened it up. I grabbed my rake and gloves and got busy. Many, many countless hours later I had an enormous number of large leaf bags stuffed so full I could hardly lift them. I was beyond exhausted, but the job was done. I staggered into the house, got cleaned up, and collapsed into bed.
As I rolled over in an effort to get comfortable I could feel a distinct clunk in my right shoulder. When I started to roll to the other side, there was a definite pop in that same joint. That couldn’t be good, and it went on like that for the rest of the night. I never did seek medical attention. I just waited to see if the problem would go away on its own, and it eventually did, but would you believe that it took eight months? Yep, that long.
It’s that time of year again, and my shoulder has fully healed. I’m still feeling some hesitancy about taking on another raking job, so I’m going to take it bit by bit, nice and slow. My shoulder, if it knows what’s good for it, will get with the program, cooperate, and do what it is supposed to do – – – and do it without whining and complaining for the next eight months.