I get paid for typing and editing. [Note: I’ll start proofing these blogs when you start paying me, HA.] I love writing what is spoken, changing only the jots—so it reads just like the person speaks. The job the other day stands out among 35 years’ worth. It was for my husband, actually. I never noticed how interestingly he puts words together. It was kind of fun! But it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.
The next morning I got the whole drill on his current medical treatment: shots, steroids, diet, etc. I think he was expecting me to memorize it all. Yeah: not exactly a walk in the park.
I also gave another driving lesson. She’s what the instructor calls a gap driver: she still does in succession things most drivers do simultaneously. Oh, yeah—it’s a walk in the park!
We 86’d some beat-up furniture in the garage sale last Saturday. All week I’ve been sitting on the steel furniture: that’s a real walk in the park.
Yesterday I observed my front walk; some Mother Weeds do not understand the meaning of Casoron. [I learned they sprout from above. Cheaters!] NOT a walk in the park!
Last night I employed my smattering of the Spanish language. Surprisingly, we were communicating! But 20 minutes into it I noticed she started laughing her head off. Yeah: walk in the park.
I then watched my daughter and my future son-in-law go into the Pastor’s office. Yeah. walk in the park.
This week I’ve started buying flatbeds of product for my Camp Cook job. I’m not the spring chicken I used to be. It’s no longer a walk in the park.
Today I was so happy to notice my pants are getting too big! Then I realized I had on my Mamma jeans. >_< Definitely time for a walk in the park.