God, I love being outside and cleaning up shit in the yard. I might sound sarcastic here, but I'm saying, seriously, I love cleaning up leaves and planting things and landscaping. I can almost see the end product when I'm raking and digging and getting stabbed by various plants to which I'm allergic. And when the shit starts growing, I just want to sit outside and watch it. Maybe take a time-lapse video of all the things which grow and bloom.
But god do I hate owning an old house. I can break my back outside and see the results, but the INSIDE of the house - where all the plumbing and electricity and general rot happens - makes me want to throw myself under the lawnmower. I fucking hate it. I hate being electrocuted when I try to turn on a light. I hate not knowing how to change an overhead light. I hate being afraid to change that light fixture - even though I know (in theory) how to fix it - because I might just burn my house down. I hate that the dickhead who lived here before I did "fixed" all kinds of things, but he did it in the most ridiculous, half-assed way imaginable. I hate that my roof seems to be slowly disintegrating. I hate that my deck is rotting so badly that I might just fall through it one day and have to be rescued by firefighters. I hate that various windows around the house are cracked, simply because they're so freaking old. I hate wondering if my house will burn down because someone didn't care enough to wire it right.I hate that my driveway looks like Fallujah after a bombing.
But life is coming back to the midwest right now. And as e e cummings said,
O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked
thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty, how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest
them only with
spring)
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