I can't stand it. I am not nearly as strong physically as I want to be. It's a horrible feeling when you can't do something you want to do, just because you lack the sheer strength to do it.
I was over to the ball field earlier trying to help Scott fix the riding lawn mower. We needed to replace the belt on it, without the help of a manual and after someone else had already pulled the entire machine apart.
We propped the front wheels up on blocks and went to work. He wove the belt in and out where it needed to go and I made sure the damn thing didn't move. As luck would have it, the only spot to ensure this was on top of where he was laying. I ended up straddling him as he worked and I held the stupid machine still. Occasionally he would bark at me to lift it, which I managed to do.
I'm sure the entire thing was a clown show to be sure.
I ended up coming home, hot...sweaty and irritated.
The guy who has the manual will be back later today and then we can take care of business. The lawns need mowing and they're not going to mow themselves. Perhaps if we knew someone with a herd of goats we could just junk the damn mower?
I have been obsessed with the milk bags Jeff wrote about last week. I keep having flash backs to the glory and milk filled days when I was breast feeding.
You have no idea of the wondrous milk filled machine guns I possessed while nursing. I had only to pop them babies out of the nursing bra and they were squirting milk in all directions. My very own weapons of mammary destruction.
I could shoot my husband from across the room. If he walked around the corner a mere squeeze of the booby and he was covered in milk from head to toe.
I even got the cats, the dog, the unsuspecting neighbor...heh..hehe...
Once when we were living in Base Housing, I stood on one side of the fence while our neighbor stood on the other. I leaned back, whipped the mammary out and pressed on the top and bottom of the milk machine with force. The stream of milk that shot out was a sight indeed. It reached the top of the fence and made it's way over. Then I heard a distinct male voice say, "What the hell?".
I ran laughing hysterically back into my house, soaking myself accidentally with milk.
Good times...good times...
Got milk?
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Me too with the milk guns. Holy smokes.
ReplyDeleteI never ever needed a pump - I just leaned over and squeezed, and could get up to 7 OUNCES of milk from one boob to come out in about 5 minutes.
I was made to lactate, baby!
Never did use it as a super soaker though. That's good thinking on your part.