Pain Pills, Briars, and Determination: Another Day Working the Homestead
Let me tell you, some days out here on the homestead test every ounce of strength I’ve got left — and today was one of those days. My back’s still fractured, my left leg feels like it’s on fire, but the work doesn’t stop just because I’m hurting. So, I did what I always do — I sucked it up, took a pain pill, laced up my Justin Ropers, tucked my skinny jeans inside, threw on a tank top and hoodie, and headed out back to get it done.
Getting It Done — Pain or Not
This old septic tank has to be emptied this week, no way around it. Which means the brush behind it had to be cleared first. So, out I went with my loppers in hand, ready to face the jungle of brush, polk berry bushes, and briars that have taken over the back fence line. Within ten minutes, I already had thorns in my hands and blood on my hoodie sleeve. But that’s life out here — it’s not clean, not easy, and sure as hell not for the faint-hearted.
I’ve been cutting through thick tangles all morning, one branch at a time. My son had to work today, but he’ll be home this afternoon to finish off the rest with the weed eater. I told him, between the two of us, we’ll have that whole mess cleared before the rain hits tomorrow.
The Plan Ahead
The forecast says rain all day tomorrow, so burning the brush pile will have to wait. I’ll drag the cut-down stuff back further and stack it up to dry, ready to torch once the weather clears. If everything goes right, we’ll have this place ready for the septic truck by Friday. It’s not glamorous work, but it’s got to be done.
Some folks spend their weekends sipping lattes and scrolling social media. Me? I’m out here with a sore back, muddy boots, and thorn-stabbed hands — but at least I can look around and see real progress. And that’s worth every ache and pain I’ll feel tomorrow morning.
Real Life, Real Work
It’s funny — people talk about “living the dream” like it’s all sunshine and pretty Pinterest gardens. But out here, the real dream is being able to take care of your land, even when your body’s fighting you every step of the way. It’s doing what’s got to be done, no matter how rough it gets.
And yeah, maybe I’m out here moving slow, but I’m still moving. Because pain might slow me down, but it sure doesn’t stop me.