When Joe and I were building my new solid fence last fall, I took a good look at it for the first time in ages. It's been there for 100 years - but I realized it wouldn't last another five if I didn't do some repair work. The cap is badly deteriorated, and it's in sore need of tuck-pointing.
Joe was kind enough to pick the supplies up for me last spring - I figured I'd get it knocked out before summer's heat arrived. I thought wrong. We've had the rainiest spring in eons, and since the wall is out of sight, its repair kept falling off my mental to-do list. I'd open the garage door, see the neat stack of bags of mortar, think, 'I need to get started on that next time it's not raining', shut the door, and not think of it again until the next time I was in the garage.
Yesterday, I finally got to it. (about time - it didn't take long to discover a good bit of the mortar is still in the wall solely out of habit - there's nothing actually holding it in place.) Even though it was Saturday, I got up with the sun, gathered my tools and supplies, and got to work. I started just before seven, figured I'd stop when it got hot around ten. Ten o'clock came and went, and I was still out there. I was in my zen space, on a roll. There was something very satisfying about prying the old loose mortar from its home and replacing it with the new.
Then, around 1:30, I tried to mix one more batch of mortar. I measured out the cement, added the sand, and started to stir in the water. My arms wouldn't cooperate. I dug down for a little more oomph - this was the last batch, for real this time! - but there was no oomph to be found. Each turn of the trowel turning the mud over in the bucket was an effort of will.
But I did it. Got it mixed, got it on the wall (looking at it this morning, it wasn't my neatest application of the day, but it was good enough). I started to clean up my mess. Every step took longer than it should; it took all my focus to work through each one.
Gather the tools, give them an initial rinse with the handy-dandy hose, put them in the wheelbarrow. Pick up the chunks of old mortar, put them in the bags the sand came in for later disposal. Truck the wheelbarrow around the house to the garage, open the garage door, put everything inside. Bring the tools inside and clean them properly.
I was feeling pretty good about my morning's work.
Then, I sat down, and the headache started in immediately. Oh, yeah - I'd overdone it. The physical rigors of my indoor daily desk job don't leave me in prepared to hop up on a 90+ degree day and work outside in the heat and humidity for six hours. (you think????)
An hour's nap and a dose of Tylenol later I was ready to consider rejoining the land of the living, but I had NO energy for the rest of the day. You can be sure I slept well!
I was pleasantly surprised when I woke up and was able to move without pain this morning. I woke early, and surprised myself by managing to get up and get at it once again. But I was smarter this time. Even though I still had energy when I'd finished using up the first 50lb bag of sand, I stopped anyways. My arms had held out to that point, and I still able to easily focus on the task in front of me. Stopping before I ran into the metaphorical brick wall meant cleanup was easy - just another part of the job.
Feeling pretty proud of myself, I am.
I'm trying not to think about the part where my two mornings of hard labor has gotten me all of fifteen feet of finished wall. At this rate, I'll have to find time on another 6-7 days before I'll be able to call it done.
But, Rome wasn't built in a day, and the wall isn't going anywhere. I'll stick within my newly established limits, and it'll get done before the end of summer, one step at a time.
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