I knew I would be unable to knit yesterday:  There was a huge pile of ex-tree mulch in our front yard that needed to move to the back yard, and it seemed unlikely to move itself.  And don’t think I didn’t try to convince it.  If I knew what language to speak to a deceased, shredded white pine, my pleading may have even worked.  I changed into my over-muh-halls, whining about how sore my hands were from one day of mulch-moving, grabbed a pitchfork, and joined Scott at the mulch pile.  We were prepared for day upon day of misery, culminating in re-seeding the dead patch of lawn that we would find on Saturday when we reached the bottom of the pile.  I sent Scott in for a drink when he looked wilted, and I started shoveling mulch.  I must have looked really pitiful or maybe quite dainty, because out of nowhere neighbor Paul showed up with a wheelbarrow and a pitchfork, filled the barrow in no time flat, and put the mulch in the big pile in the back.  Paul is a prince among men.  Paul made jokes about moving piles of rocks in basic training.  Paul must not know that I am the kind of girl who knows how to use a pick-axe and throw a javelin.  Please don’t tell him.  Sometimes there is reason to hide my tomboyish nature.

Scott came back out, joked with Paul about being incapable of watching me work so hard, and the two of them moved 12 cubic yards of mulch in under two hours.  And all Paul would accept was one beer.  One beer.  I got to hang out with Rachel, Paul’s housemates’ daughter.  We played fetch with Kayo, who has decided that Rachel is fun to lick and good at petting brown dogs and that Paul is probably one of the pack-members.  We raked and otherwise assisted the guys, assuring them that we recognized their amazing strength.  It was like Scott and Paul were racing.  But I won.  Scott and I are only slightly sore, neither of us have any big injuries, the lawn is fine.  Glorious.

And then Paul mowed his lawn, which didn’t need to be mowed at all.  Maybe he’s nuts.  At least he’s nuts in a good way.  When word gets out about Paul, I expect that there will be a line of single ladies with yard-work needs circling the block. 

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