I planned to get a lot more writing done on the prequel to BECOME this weekend. I also planned to get a fair amount of work done outside. The yard really needs to be mowed. And I’m trying to gradually put in some xeriscape plants to replace the large . . . well, I can’t exactly call it a lawn . . . grassy/weedy area out front.
(This is a very old picture, probably 1930’s or early 1940’s, and the house has been added onto since then, but you can see that the front “lawn” is pretty good-sized. That photo isn’t even taken from the far end of it. No, I have no idea what that big hole was.)
Plus, of course, all of the usual things I normally have to get done on the weekends, like laundry.
Yeah, I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew sometimes. Usually, it just ends with me feeling like a should have accomplished more, somehow.
I’m not sure quite what I did while planting that one-gallon pyracantha. It shouldn’t have been anything I haven’t done a hundred times before. But I must have moved wrong or something. And I’ve been hurting ever since. It’s not nearly as bad today, but enough to kill any ambition to get the mower out. Well, the grass/weeds are still probably too wet from last weekend’s storms anyway. I didn’t even get the two smaller lavender plants out. They’ll hold in their pots for a week or so.
Also, unfortunately, not very conducive to the kind of concentration needed for writing.