Looking at the long-range forecast, yesterday looked like one of the warmest days of my vacation, so I decided to clean the pond. A ton of leaves and trash had blown into it. And I was pretty sure there were some rocks in the bottom of the pond as well. At first I knelt at the side of the pond and reached in with my hands. But the deeper areas were hard to get to. At one point, my nose touched the water. I decided to wade in. The water was cold, but bearable. It was a little freaky to be blindly dredging my hands through rotting vegetation, but I quickly got used to it.
I partially filled a wheelbarrow with leaves from the pond. I also pulled out many large rocks. People have been throwing them in the pond. I didn’t even consider that as a possible hazzard. What’s wrong with those people? One of the large rocks smashed the housing of my $300 pump. I’ll have to jimmy-rig a screen for it now so that leaves aren’t pulled into the impeller and clog the blades.
After I was done I noticed that my hand was bleeding. I had flashes of a swollen finger and odd bumps climbing up my arm toward my heart. Infection! Infection!
You really suffer for your art, don’t you? I’m also hoping for no infection – maybe drinking lots of vodka would kill germs from the inside.
Have you been pouring straight rubbing alcohol over that wound? Five times a day? Because I would. *jibblie*
Maybe you should put up a sign that says “Coins only please, rock throwers will be prosecuted & your wish won’t come true.”
(Sorry about the broken pump, that stinks. Grrrr…but the pond looks GRRRRREAT!!)
“Beware of Attack Fish” or “Cat trained to call 911” or “Unstable Lutheran School Teacher Lives Here, Throw Rocks at Your Own Risk”
And why are your pants so long? Are you shrinking?