This is not the blog I intended to write for today. But, as it was when I worked, so it is in retirement. The unexpected happened as in I got sick. There is no one to call this morning as in a supervisor telling them I won’t be at work. I don’t have a supervisor anymore unless you want to count Martin. Although, I can assure you, he’d say I supervise him. But that’s another post. I don’t have anyplace I have to be today. I don’t have any customers or co-workers I have to see or call. So, another benefit of being retired is if you find yourself feeling not so well, you can stay in your pajamas (we call them relax clothes in this house) laying around on the couch all day without having to answer to anyone but yourself. However, this is not entirely true. Being it’s Monday and thinking of myself as someone who fulfills their commitments, I do have this post to write. I promise you, though, it’s going to be a short one. You see, my eyes are a red, goopy mess.
On a visit last Friday to Caesar’s Head State Park in the beautiful Blue Ridge foothills of South Carolina, I ran into a formidable enemy…tree pollen. You can’t hardly see this stuff it’s so tiny but this time of year it can knock me flat despite all the allergy pills, saline sprays and preventions I adhere to. So, after showing our grandson, KJ, the view of Table Rock Mountain and making the short hike down below through the Devil’s Kitchen to view what either looks like, depending on your imagination, Caesar’s Head or a monkey, my eyes began to swell, water and turn red. By late Friday night I looked like a red-eyed alien out of one of the sci-fi movies Martin likes so much. Friday and Saturday nights were spent tossing and turning, surfing the net for home remedies from warm, wet tea bags placed on my eyes to Thera-tears drops. No longer able to wait out a call to my doctor on Monday morning, Sunday afternoon Martin drove me to a walk-in clinic. Lucky as usual, I didn’t have to wait more than two minutes for the nurse practitioner to see me. Fifteen minutes later I was filling a prescription, waiting with great anticipation for the relief it would bring.
So, this morning, though I’m feeling a little better, my eyes are still red and my vision blurred by a sea of watery discharge. Yuck! Oh, and today was my asparagus planting day. My one-year roots were supposed to arrive to normal temps of about 66 for this time of year. Instead, “Brown” brought them up my drive on a 38 degree day. Though it warmed up to low 40’s, these babies need at least 50 degrees before they’re put into mother earth. Doing what any serious gardener would do, I looked at the forecast, decided today would be the day, wrapped them in damp newspaper and sprayed them with water for as long as I dared.
Well, you guessed it. High winds and 50 degrees today. Not willing to expose myself to another tiny bit of pollen, this morning I had to ask my supervisor (o.k. I’m his supervisor) to plant the dad blamed asparagus for me. Each of us armed with cell phones, I stood in the guest bedroom, watching, as I talked Martin through the planting. This proved a little awkward as he had to keep putting his phone down in order to wield the shovel and rake and spread out the roots. Fortunately, he’d prepared the beds for me a couple of weeks ago (o.k, o.k. I really do supervise him). Never wanting to be a farmer, as he often reminds me, he did a superb job and we can now look forward to fresh asparagus next spring. As for today, it’s a sick day, so, I’m headed back to the couch.