On Saturday God wrath upon Eldersburg rains rivaling the flood of Genesis. I noticed that my gutters were overflowing with water, splashing upon the garden sending mud and mulch everywhere. Not having but one small tree near my house, I figured it was not leaves that were damming my pipes, but mud.
On Sunday morning my son and I went to Home Depot and picked up another 10 feet of black plastic ribbed pipe. I decided that I was going to extend the drain farther away from the house and into the yard. Currently the pipe emptied into a buried gravel pit.
My son and I started digging and boy was it muddy. We dug a trench veering away from the house to a downward sloping area. We then pulled up the existing pipe, connected it to the new pipe and gently laid it's flaccid body in the trench. We covered the pipe with dirt and the carefully removed sod. Finally - we were done.
To test our new work I took the hose and aimed it upon the roof above the garage. I had my son go to the end of the new pipe and asked him to let me know when the water began to flow out. We waited. And waited. Nothing. It was like waiting for the Democrats to produce a fiscally responsible bill - felt like it was never going to happen! Then suddenly the water began to pour over the sides of the gutter again. Obviously something else was blocking the pipe!
I finally paused our effort and got out the 8 ft step ladder. Being only 3 ft tall myself, I couldn't
see into the gutter, but on my tippy-toes with my platform shoes I could feel into it. Finally inching my way to the down-pipe I felt a baseball-sized sponge-ball blocking the pipe. You have to be kidding me! All of that work in the mud and the problem the whole time was a sponge-ball???
I tried to remove the ball, but it held tight. Finally suction got the best of it and down it went into the pipe. The roaring of the once-backed-up water filled the aluminum pipe and gravity took it to its next destination. The water shot out of the other end with determined force. My son was in heaven - a new mud puddle!
After a quick shower I decided it was time for the next project - paint the railing on the porch. I have been putting this one off for a while. I haven't entirely been putting this off intentionally. I coach soccer 4 days per week and it seems to rain every Saturday, Sunday and Monday.
Sunday graced us with sunshine and like a fraternity brother finding a drunk naked girl in his bed I figured I better take advantage of this opportunity. I quickly scrubbed the blackberry bird poop from the top rail and taped off the bottom. I spread an old cloth under the railing, and got out the semi-gloss exterior latex paint.
With about 400,000 balusters it was taking forever to paint. I finally made my way around the front to the side. At some point a leaf or something like that landed in my hair. A quick swipe at it resulted in excruciating pain. Then another above my eye. I think I was being bitten.
I screamed like a little girl, threw the paint brush up into the air an ran into the house. I then realized in the 0.2 seconds that had just transpired that I was being attacked by a hornet. Peeking out the window like a shy ugly girl I noticed that my neighbors across the street were looking at me with disbelief. I slowing opened the door and with interpretation hollered out - I just got attacked by a hornet. "Sure you did" came the response.
My head pounded. It felt like I had a couple of 10 penny nails tapped into my skull. I called my wife and told her that I was bitten by a hornet several times and that I think it was starting to swell. She said she'd be right home. She was at a friend's house in our neighborhood. I hadn't put the phone down 10 seconds and the front door burst open to reveal my panting hot wife in a panic thinking I was passed out on the floor.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked. Now, I tend to be slightly dramatic. Sometimes. So it's difficult to tell when I really need help. But I thought I had clearly told her that I was bitten but I thought I as okay. Seriously - if I was allergic, wouldn't I be dead already?
Some time passed and I decided it was probably safe to return outside. I wasn't painting for 5 minutes when that little uckfer landed on my hand and bit me again! Screaming like a little girl again and lifted my skirt and hustled back inside. I was done painting.
In the evening I went outside with flashlight in mouth, a broom in one hand, and the 32 ounce bottle of jet-spray wasp and hornet killer in the other. I tapped open the cable box where I suspected the nest resided and it revealed their small home (smaller than a fist) and several hornets. I quickly bathed them in the Raid, then after taking a small break bathed them again. Take that you little uckfers!!!
I may not have wings or stingers, but I have a brain and a charge card. A hornet will never be able to overcome those obstacles in life. And so went my weekend.
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