Too much for this old lady.

This is how I feel today.

Yesterday we prepared the porch deck for refinishing. We let this go way too long and now it's in desperate need. 

Ten years ago I refinished the whole deck, when the Prospector was gone for a few days. All by myself. Imagine!

 I didn't know it, but I was young then. It's all a matter of perspective. 

 Lowe's, our successful and much visited "do it yourself" store, advises that you refinish every two or three years... max. Of course they are selling the PRODUCTS, so they would always recommend this be done more often than is probably necessary.
 However, water does not "bead" on this deck anymore. It hasn't for the last few years, so it was time for a serious cleaning and staining, whether Lowe's thought so or not.

Yesterday I volunteered to work on the porch FOR A WHILE. The job required using a vacuum and metal spatula to dig out ten years of accumulated gravel, dog hair (that's six dogs in 16 years.), oak leaves, bird feathers (yes, baby bird feathers.) dust and dirt from between the boards. This is a down on your knees, labor intensive job that required a 20 to 40 year old body without arthritis in the hands and feet. The Prospector had started the job, got about a third of it done and came in saying he had some "other stuff" to do. I know, living with this man for forty seven years, that this now translates to "My #&@# knees are killing me." and that this was going to be a long day.

I went out and thought, "This doesn't look so hard.", so I sat down and started working the cracks. Once I got started it, somehow, became a competition... with myself. It became an issue of endurance. I was determined to finish the whole blessed porch. I couldn't stop myself. 

Yes, well... that is what happens when you get old. You feel you have to prove something. I'm not sure what it is that I felt I had to prove, but when I stood up an hour or so later, I knew that I would have this "PROOF" for a few days, maybe a week, afterwards. I could hardly move.

There was so much "debris" in between the boards that you couldn't see through to the ground below. 

YOU CAN NOW! After an hour or so of digging out the solidified sand and dog hair with the scraper and vacuuming it up, the boards are ready for some sanding and our neighbor's power washer. With the temperature going over 100 degrees this weekend the porch should be dry enough to stain by next week.

We had to replace the steps.

The old ones were shot and no amount of stain was going to bring them back to life. Glad we didn't wait too much longer or we might have had to replace the whole porch.

So today we rest. This was more than our 67 years old bodies could almost handle and we are realizing that we now have LIMITS. You know... the ones you ignored when you were younger, and now... you pay dearly for your efforts the next day (or two... or three... or a week later.) 

I'm trying to accept being a senior citizen person but it sucks (excuse me.. no other word fits as well.), so I complain and I take naps.

It's part of the sensual delight of living past middle age.

Carl is tired of listening to me. He's leaving.

And Cutter...

Well... he is chillin' in the air-conditioned living room and he says, " Just rub more Aspercreme in, Farmlady. Stop whining.... Can I have a biscuit?"