Wednesday April 16th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about something that is: suspended.

After finishing two rows in each of my previous two mulching sessions, I managed to do five rows of garlic today. They're not particularly long rows, but I'm trying to put down a thicker cover this year. Also? That mulch is friggin' heavy.

I know it'll do a better job than the wood chips would, but we don't have a mechanized way of doing it. So that means shovelling it into the wheelbarrow, bringing it to the garlic, and shovelling it out. And repeat. It's doable for a small section like this, but there's no way we'd be able to use it for, say, the strawberries.

Not without my wrist snapping in two.

Anyway, there are only three rows of garlic left to mulch now, so I'm hoping to finish that off tomorrow.


My life feels like it has been put on pause. I don't know who is in control of the remote but whoever it is doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to hit play again.

Or maybe they've run out of batteries. I just have to wait until they get back from the store with a fresh pack and then things can resume.

Or it could be they've lost the remote in some dusty cosmic couch. That would not be good. Who knows how long it will take for them to find it? I could be stuck like this for years.

Worse still, they may have simply lost interest in the show that is my life. They hit pause, tossed the remote to the side and walked away. Probably forgotten all about me by now. Not likely to come back to this program if that's the case.

I've been thinking about all of these theories ever since things suddenly came to a halt. I doubt that it's doing me any good, but I can't help it.

Maybe I own my own remote and it's up to me to find it, get the tape moving forward. What if I hit rewind by mistake? Or eject?

I think I've got too much time on my hands.


Greg said...

Tape? You're letting your age show :-P
The garlic mulching sounds like the kind of job that feels rewarding when it's done, and is just hard work while you're doing it. Still, it'll produce better garlic you say, so it's definitely worthwhile. I shall sympathesize, from the kind of safe distance that doesn't have you inviting me to help!
Good luck with it though, it sounds like the end is in sight :)
I'm quite curious about this suspended life, and what it would be like living it. Although I'm quite interested in the missing remote as well... :) I think you've managed to convey a sense of ennui that fits rather well with your theme; well done!

The Great Moodini, bovine escapologist extraordinaire, contemplated her current situiation. She was, as per her instructions, suspended in a leather-and-chain harness above the meat-grinder, and somewhere down below someone was working out how to operate the controls to turn it on and start lowering the harness. It was certain death.
Unless you were the Great Moodini of course.
Except if the Great Moodini was having a moment that morning and had forgotten which of the chains was actually a cunning fake that could be easily slipped sideways in its mounting, giving her enough room to wiggle a leg free, and use a horn to force enough space to let her slide forwards, and then out of the harness. When you knew how it all worked, it was amazing that it managed to hold her weight at all.
A collective low went up from the herd watching as the machine finally whirred to life, and the crushing wheels and slicing blades turned into a glittering, deadly syncronised mesh of a short future. The Great Moodini tried not panic as she tested another chain, wondering why it was so hard to remember how to get how of this damn thing.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, maybe :P

Hah, you and your safe distances :)

I simply cannot read 'the Great Moodini' without laughing. Just can't do it. Even with a potentially grim fate awaiting below her.