The Second Most Tedious Day

As I had feared, my dad wanted me to pull more grass today.  He woke me up at around 8 a.m. so that I could get started.  Joy of joys.  "It builds character," he said.  It's good for you," he said.  What a crock of nonsense if I ever heard it.  I could think of any number of things less tedious that would also be good for me.  Apparently grass pulling is the new bicycling (actually I haven't ridden a bike in years).  I'm sure going for a long walk would also be good for me, too.  Nothing says character building quite as much as ripping out long stalks of grass while strange little bugs nip at exposed flesh.

In a sense it was more bearable despite the aching legs and neck and arms I now had.  My sibling offered his music for me to listen to while I worked.  He's got good taste in music.  I didn't really come across a song I didn't like.  I think it made the work go faster, though I still can't figure out what exactly is the deal with this rusty substance that keeps getting all over my hands.  It's not from the sod itself, so I guess it's a mystery substance.  I also realized that the roots go down a lot deeper than one would think.  There were a couple stubborn weeds, and in the few instances where I bothered to actually dig the whole thing up, I saw how far down they went and knew the futility of the struggle.   

My limbs reached the uncontrollable shaking stage, and I could hardly walk in a straight line after awhile.  Considering I was mostly on my own this time, I did pull up quite a decent amount.  Unfortunately the yard, which continues to mock me with its stupid vastness, still has weeds that I'll no doubt have to pull up tomorrow.  As if that wasn't bad enough, the crows mocked me from afar with their cawing.  I don't want to get my hopes up, but perhaps tomorrow will be the end of this nonsense.  I fear it may be too late for my skin, though.  The yard has soaked its scent into my bones.  I smell like grass, and it's not even the pleasant smell of grass you might expect on a breezy day in spring, or the kind of grass you're imagining when a commercial comes on TV and there's pretty flowers everywhere.  It's the kind of grass that makes a person gag.  I took a shower and I still came out smelling like grass.  This is the worst perfume ever.