I came, I saw, I ….well, anyway…. here's a saw about a saw
Let me start by saying that I am amazed at the sequence of "truisms" that somehow guided my thoughts and actions from one misadventure to the next.
Today is our borrowed day of good weather in the middle of November. So, of course, it occurs to me that I should take the garden down. (I may not get another lucky break…) After our recent basement flood and less-than-successful garage sale, our garage is not in good order. So I search … "Where are my garden tools"? I can't believe that I'm finding nothing; usually they are squirreled away in various locations. Did we accidentally sell them off while retaining our legiitimate garage sale items?
I have some work to do! A hefty row of (ahem) wildflowers with thick stems are more than my scissors are up to handling. Besides which, I had fallen in a backyard pothole covered with wet leaves a week ago and landed on my dominant hand, so I am not up to all that cutting either. (I inwardly congratulate myself for foresight in recognizing I could aggravate my healing muscles and tendons).
Now, being an artist, I know that it is very advantageous to use the right tool for a job. But also I know a lot about improvising creatively with an unusual choice for a tool. So I start eyeing our saws. For some odd reason, we have a variety of saws. I spot a middle-sized one with a clean orange handle and think "That's the one for me!"
So I proceed to saw down the "garden", loading up a wheelbarrow with giant weeds. In the middle of my row, I remember that there are some fine branches hanging down from a nearby tree. They are at eye-level, and I've been meaning to trim them before someone gets hurt. I am quite certain these little twiggy branches will just cut off very easily. But no! They are tenacious, and I saw away at them. When the first thin branch finally releases, I go a little too far with the saw and cut into the tip of my thumb. Nothing deep, so I am tempted to keep working. Although it is rather messy, and I decide to go in to clean it up. I wash it off and apply some (seriously expired) antibiotic ointment (does anyone ever go through these tubes in time?) and bandage it.
I believe that I am ready to go back out and finish the job. But suddenly I remember that a few years back my cousin almost died from an infection he picked up in the garden. The bacteria had entered through a a very small cut. And didn't I just talk with a friend who had the "flesh-eating virus" just about take her life a few months ago?
At this point, I'm not keen on taking any chances, so I give it up. I listen to my inner wisdom which reminds me that sometimes the effort is not worth the cost. I am only to happy to listen…. Clearly, my instruments of choice are the pen and paintbrush!
I rest my case….
