Soft Hands

Argh. My hands are full of blisters. They're soft.

I've been swearing away at the people who thought it was a good idea to dump building materials in the garden of the new house. Probably the developers' people when the house was built. So far I've had to dig up and remove stones, bricks, floor marble, tiles and concrete. Damnit. I've got multiple blisters to show for it. Yeh. Soft hands.

I'm determined to get the garden done. It was weed heaven when I bought the place. Right now it's bare soil with hint of weed. The obvious thing is to get someone to level out the land and plant the grass but I have to do it myself.

Quite simply, it's my house.

I need to make something mine alone. There was a lot of stuff done to the house that I could have done. A lot of the electrical work, some of the plumbing but all of the fittings. Sure, I can paint but it isn't realistic for one guy to paint the whole house, in and out, all by himself.

The garden is mine. It's going to be tiring, painful and frustrating but I'm going to love it. It's just like a tattoo. It hurts but it's the end result that counts.

I showed a friend the blisters. Conversation follows.

"Dammit look at my hands man!"

"Like that you're not holding a golf club. You can't. You can't even hold your dick."

"That's okay. I'll find someone to hold it for me."

Some things you do yourself.

Some things you don't mind other people doing for you.

HAHA!!