Craptastic Saturday

Yesterday was a really rough day. Despite the fact that my depression has lessened it grip over the last few weeks, I was a complete wreck yesterday. Firstly, I wanted nothing more than to spend my day puttering in the yard and garden in the sunshine. It was the first day of 10 off and my last official Spring Break. Before I could get started in the garden I had to find and purchase a new "sprinkle-bucket" aka watering can. It could not be plastic, it had to be metal and it took three stops to find one that was acceptable. I could feel the clock ticking on my day as I drove around town searching for this acceptable sprinkle-bucket.

Finally home, I have to maneuver around a dead squirrel in front of my driveway. As a side note, A. I love to watch the squirrels play in the tree at the corner of our lot and B. I loathe humans who drive too fast in the neighborhood. So, I proceed knowing that I will have to give that squirrel a proper burial sooner rather than later, but I have to immediately water the little seedlings with the all-important METAL sprinkle-can that I drove all over town seeking.

I lift the lid of the cold frame, which has been open 24/7 because the nights have been warm and begin to lift the peat trays out and into the tub to soak and I notice that there don't seem to be any sprouts. Down on my knees in the dirt I peer into the tub and I realize that all my babies are wilted over and most are clearly DEAD and I killed them. I didn't check them on Friday at all and they were dead, neglected to death which is worse than murder in my eyes.

On my knees in the dirt, I burst into tears. All that work and vigilance, opening and closing the frames, checking the weather, all of it a waste of time because I was too wiped out and too lazy to go and check them just one time. I sobbed and in the midst of it my husband calls and I blubber, "I killed the baby seedlings" and he keeps says "WHAT?" and I keep blubbering, "I killed the baby seedlings", which I suspect sounded more like, "I killed the baaaaaaaaaaaabeeeeeeeeeseeeeeedlinnnns" or something like that. Finally, I am a little more composed and I explain and he soothes me and I'm okay and I go to bury the squirrel.

Then, I spend hours watering strawberries, potatoes, and onions with the sprinkle-bucket. Dipping a bucket in the rain barrel, hoisting it out dripping, pouring it into the sprinkle-bucket, walking the rows, over and over and over and over. I re-mulched the entire garden lovingly, doing penance for neglecting our seedlings. I move on to removing some Yarrow and Evening Primrose that is trying to take over the whole flower garden and I'm kicking it and the day is improving. I'm getting a lot done, sweating, and feeling good about what I am accomplishing and telling myself that my day is finally getting better. I ram the shovel in a few more times to break up the roots, kneel down and peel back the layer of plants and shake the dirt from their roots and I see something weird in the dirt I've just uncovered. I look closer and it is a toad's foot, right next to it is the toad's face, separate from his body. I uncover the body and it is still moving as it still has a brain, but it doesn't have a face and I am sobbing again...a murderess this time. Funeral #2 for the day was a somber affair.

On that note, I figured it was time to come in and take a shower and try not to kill anything else. Now, what I need to know is, When will the toads all wake up and come out? I can't use a shovel until I know I'm not going to kill anyone.

Hopefully, today will be a better day.