It was a long weekend.
In more ways than one.
Monday was a statutory holiday in most provinces.
Traditionally, it is the weekend that people open their cottages.
Do a little spring cleaning.
Get the garden in order.
It's also, traditionally, the crappiest weekend ... weather-wise.
It's usually raining.
And yet, everyone seems to go camping.
This has always boggled my mind.
So, not owning a cottage, and not being crazy enough to go camping this early in the season, The Husband decides to have four cubic yards of top-soil delivered to the house. It was dumped in the driveway on Thursday. Where it was covered up to await the weekend.
Carted wheel barrels.
Spread top soil over the entire front law.
And half the backyard.
Mixed peat moss and Vermiculite.
Spread that over the same area.
Next we spread fertilizer.
Then grass seed.
Then we rolled over it with a heavy roller.
Then crawled our sorry asses into the house late Monday and collapsed.
Every muscle in my body is swearing at me right now.
If I had the energy, I'd flip those muscles the finger, but it would probably hurt.