Saturday, July 12, 2014

my husband, the surgeon

My yard is bionic.

Everything is  overgrown.  It was actually a mini-Jurassic park, replete with radioactive cow-manure soil that grows things to 6 or 7 times its normal size.  I felt compelled to at least start.

It was a very slow and grueling 2 1/2 hours of weeding and trimming just the left side of the FRONT YARD.  Yes.  the bushes that consume the front walkway and the hedges around the front.. took 150 minutes of my life.

What is surprising to me is that I actually continued on to do the right side/ front and even around to some of the back.  No, I am not finished.  But I do have 18 cubic feet of "trimmings" in a pile.  I stopped logging hours a day or two ago, but I am already calculating how much hiring a gardener would be.  Too much.

So, at the end of the day, even though I wore gloves, I had managed to get some "weed splinters" in a few of my fingers.  They are those small, hard to find splinters that require some sort of surgical procedure to remove.

So, I'm so glad I married a surgeon.  O.K... well... he's not really a surgeon; he's an engineer.  No task to difficult or precise for this guy.  yeah yeah.

So, we have a nightly "surgery" appointment where he dons his glasses, a flashlight, a scalpel (I kid you not) and some micro-tweezers.  

So, I do "surgery prep" because I know I'm going to have to lay there forever and be still.  This takes some planning--especially for someone like me.  So, I got all cleaned up and ready for bed.  I laid down on my side with my hand over a pillow.

He got all surgery-like.  Official looking.  You know.

So, I reasoned that it wouldn't be bad to close my eyes.  I mean.. really? what do I need to be looking at this for?

So, he starts with very small, smooth strokes with his scalpel.  He's trying to find that sliver, and it is buried deep within my hand.  He's literally cutting into my skin with a big blasted knife.

And I start to doze off.

I guess at one point I started snoring.

He keeps cutting--just shy of drawing blood.

And I'm out cold.

Finally he said he had to give up because I was twitching in my sleep..

The next day I awoke trying to figure out what happened.  I got the story from him.

And he added, "Do you take novocaine at the dentist?"

"Yeah.. why?"

"It's completely wasted on you.  Next time, go without."






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