He returns.

Man, I am sore. I returned home on Friday from travelling all week. For those of you who travel have you ever noticed that whenever you allow extra time for traffic you always arrive at the airport early? We left early for LaGuardia on Friday since we had to travel at the tail of 'rush hour'. We allowed for the often one hour wait at the tri-borough, and breezed right through. I already was leaving an hour after my colleagues, so I was in the US Air terminal and through security by 10:30 for my 1:30 flight. Of course, things being what they are, nearly every flight out of that airport, including mine, was delayed by one to one and one-half hours. Upon arriving at Indy, The remote lot only had one bus running. A common theme these days in the travel industry -- raise prices, lower service. They compounded the aggravation factor by only having ONE payment booth open. Great planning for a Friday Evening! And you know,(my travel/road rage now ramped to full steam mode) that every idiot in Central Indiana was out on the highway driving ten miles below the speed limit in the left lane. I was glad to get home at last. I remembered why I hated travelling four days a week.

Anywhoo, I was telling you why I was sore. On Saturday I mowed and trimmed the yard. I pruned the bushes and flinged/flung the dog turds back into the neighbor's yard. I prepared the flower beds for planting. Then I took the boy to practice baseball. I hit about 75 balls to him for infield practice then we took batting practice. He has lost his confidence lately so we hit through the problem. I pitched somewhere close to 400 pitches. I still cannot raise my arm above my head on Monday morning. I should add when we practice, the boy determines how long and how much we practice. I will not force him to take hitting or infield practice. In fact it was me that cried no mas on hitting another bucket.

Sunday dawned with me putting in a new mailbox and post. Then we planted flowers and mulched for the balance of the day. I dug two new flower beds. Since I do not have a tiller, this means shovel and hoe. At one point I dumped some mulch into a flower bed and asked the wife if she wanted me to get my hoe to spread it around the flowers. She told me sure. I replied "OK, go ahead". She did not find it amusing, especially after I had to explain it to her. Well, "Ho" jokes did not work for Imus either. I put two coats of paint on the front door. Before dark we went and took some more infield practice. The boy laughed at me and told me I threw like a girl while we were warming up. The shoulder felt like the old commercial showing your engine running without oil.

I am so glad to go back to my real job today. It is so much easier than working for my wife. And the pay is better.