Attempted Murder?

12-07-08

Where does the time go?

Oh wait, you know the answer to that question. Time is spread evenly over back-to-back morning cups of coffee, shoveling horse shit, pouring concrete, demolishing a roof, building another roof, acting as a personal trainer for Jane, a unique influence on Neil, and an attempted murderer to Douglas.

Well, it wasn’t on purpose. A few days ago you were demolishing the roof of a large storage area. Hanging from the rafters and swinging with your ladder between your feet to the next cross-piece, bashing things with your hammer and crowbar… really was a flashback to your days with Demolition Man. (If anyone is interested, your screen name, Demogirl06 is derived from that job). Anyway, there you were, standing on top of the exterior wall, lifting a joist and trying to twist the other end free. Douglas happened to be standing in the threshold of the doorway, directly below you. The plank twisted free, swung fast like a pendulum, and whacked into him. Jesus! Sorry man. You legitimately didn’t know he was there. Well, Douglas didn’t make a sound beyond a cry of surprise. You didn’t even realize you had hit him.

Hours later, Douglas admitted that the end of the board–complete with a long rusty nail–had hit his foot. What he thought to be a mere bruise turned out to be much more serious: the nail had pierced through the top of his shoe, through his foot, and nearly out the other side. You felt sick. And awfully guilty. If there is one thing you ought to know about, it’s puncture wounds (complications with numerous piercings will attest to that). Key word: “ought.” No one has ever stuck a rusty nail into your ear. Douglas stubbornly resisted going to the clinic. He merely put some anti-septic lotion from the local veterinarian onto the wound, put his bloody sock back on, and stuffed the foot back into his boot and worked on it for the remainder of the day. The following morning, he seemed to be in decent form, proceeded to go out to the pub to party with his cricket buddies, and drank and bounced around on it all night. Couldn’t exactly walk the morning after, and his foot looked like a balloon animal. All you could do was prepare a salt soak for it, and watch as Jane force-fed him homeopathic remedies.

The short and skinny of it is… he’s going to be okay–but there was a point at which even he got scared. Still, that leaves you in charge of the roofing business, which seems simple enough. But try to execute this task with your fellow German wwoofer, Julia, who is afraid of heights and about as green as they come, and you find yourself operating at a painfully slow rate.

Other things that take up your time: building fences and barriers, and chasing those damn pigs, Edouard and Maria, who are genuine escape artists. You have learned the truth of the term “pig headed.” At least you can boast that Maria is the more athletic pig of the two, and the instigator among them. A pig after your own heart.

When your afternoon of work is over, you tend to wind down in the kitchen, baking delicious breads, and making casseroles, rice krispie treats, soups, and salads. Big Dan will be shell-shocked when he encounters your new culinary talents. The days of “Bitch, make me an omelet,” are over. Then you head over to the chalet to train Jane, who has embraced your training program emphatically and is now continuing with the momentum of her new-found fitness and the rediscovery of clothing she hasn’t seen since she was 19. It’s good to be back in the saddle of training again. Occasionally Julia joins in, or even yourself, and it’s a fun little workout party involving anything from rocks, the jugs of water, to benches, to scaffolding and wheelbarrows. At night, you chill out in Neil’s room, lose hours of your life to the internet, enjoy a few games of chess, laugh over farting contests, and try to find correlations among mood swings and behavior. Interesting correlation for yourself: when you gave up bread and anything made with white sugar, your mood was the most stable it has been since you arrived. Basically, all white powders are the devil, and you resist the temptation even through ample time spent preparing foods with them.

Highlight of the day: standing at the stove with Joshua, teaching him how to mix batter and make pancakes. He thinks cinnamon is chocolate.

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Categories: Ireland, Safety, Workaway/Wwoof | Leave a comment

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