It takes a lot to get me up early on Saturday morning, but I did it today for the second week in a row. Not that I woke up with the sunrise or anything as radical as that. In fact, I don’t really mean waking up and getting out of bed early, specifically. It’s more about getting out of the house early. That’s the part that’s hard for me, the part that requires extreme motivation.

Last week it was moving day, and today it was the moving sale. Tammy and David still have a week and a half before they have to vacate their old place, so they took advantage today with a garage sale that got them a little money and got rid of some items they no longer need. For a sale thrown together more or less at the last minute, it was pretty successful. And it was over early, leaving the rest of the day to other things.

I wasn’t exactly a big part of the production this time, but I did help wash down some of the walls. They have every intention of getting their cleaning deposit back, even if it means painting. It will definitely mean painting, by the way, in the boys’ room. There are marks on those walls that no amount of 409 (and no amount of scrubbing with my arthritic right hand) could erase.

The party broke up early enough that it gave me plenty of time to get home and get some yard work done. I didn’t, of course. I didn’t so much as pull a single weed, but getting up (and out) early (early-ish) in the morning kind of puts me off things like that. Maybe tomorrow. Only it’s going to be hot tomorrow, and I’d have to get going in the yard early enough to beat the heat.

Right. So much for that plan.

Don’t tell anybody, but my hand is aching tonight more than it has in some time. The pain is never far below the surface, but if I’m careful and don’t aggravate it, I can tolerate it without even thinking about it most of the time. Tonight I’m thinking about it a lot. But don’t tell, because I did it to myself. Nobody asked me to do anything, so I have only myself to blame. And I’d do it again for the feeling of contributing.