The worst thing about the coming of Spring for Frank was fixing the sprinkler system. He had never been handy with tools like most of the other guys, and messing with this plumbing nightmare was a dread.
There were always a few sprinkler heads that refused to turn and ended up having to be replaced. Then he had to figure out how to set the distance and the arc for each of them, typically while they were running, making everything a wet, muddy mess. Of course, some of the sprinklers that did work, sprayed too wide or not wide enough, so they’d have to be dealt with as well.
At least this year, all the zones fired up right away, which meant the plumbing and electrical systems hadn’t been effected by the winter.
He did find out that sometime last fall, while he was cutting back some of the plants, he’d accidentally sliced the main artery to the drip system, but that was easily fixed by the application of some silicone tape.
Then, once he got everything up and running, he’d have to clean the filter once a week to keep the seeds of invasive plants out of the lawn. The invaders of seasons past were still evident in both the front and back, and he wished he could afford a proper gardening service.
Frank sat back as he finally got the last stubborn “Rain Bird” in position and adjusted. His wife was somewhere in the house, so he could afford a moment’s respite to actually enjoy the green and growing suburban world around him.
Tonight, after dinner, and after his wife had settled down to her podcasts and her reading, he could re-enter the fabulous and fertile world of his imagination. In spite of the mundane labors of an ordinary life, he was privileged by his Creator to live, to be alive, to think, and to create.
Once again at his keyboard, he would delve into realms amazing and astonishing, waving his virtual magic wand, and replacing the pedestrian with the fantastic.
I wrote this for Tale Weaver – #168 – April 26th – The Every day hosted at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. The idea today is to take the concept of those mundane little chores in our life, and weave some sort of story around them.
This is more or less an autobiographical tale. While I’ve got the sprinkler system online, and I repaired the nasty gash in my drip system feeder line, I’ve still got to repair the various sprinkler heads damaged by last winter. I know these tasks need to be performed, but all things being equal, I’d rather be writing.