Chores

Years ago I saw a sweatshirt that read “Being Retired Means Never Having A Day Off.” I thought it was funny. Now, not so much. I’ve got to prune a couple of cherry trees. They block my view, but in summer they block the sun that turns our living room into a food dryer. Unacceptable in winter, when grown men have been known to stand outside with a Mason jar on a sunny day and beg for just one ray to pour itself in for keepsies. So it’s time for my Pacific N’West banjo (that’s a chainsaw anywhere else) and a sorry piece of work because spring won’t be half as much without all those branches dressed up in their blossom best. Just another chore. Just another pebble to ripple the pond.

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