Got Wood? Or, Reasons I Wish I Was a Dude

I am cheap. Hopelessly, tirelessly cheap. I loves me a bargain.....almost to my own detriment. I will go without something seemingly necessary to the rest of the planet to save myself a dime (and yet I smoke....Hrm, there's $100 a month or so I could be saving) and will not complain.

I have electric baseboard heat here at Chez Laundry. This was acceptable when my father was alive, as he required instant, constant heat. Damn the expense, as he would say. We had a wood burning stove as back up for when the power went out (All freaking winter here) and for 'ambiance'.

Since my father has died, I have fully embraced the "fuck the electric company" attitude. I sit in the dark more often than not, and run only necessary equipment all the time. Computer, refrigerator, water heater. Things like this.

I purchased 1/2 a cord of wood from a coworkers husband a few days ago, and had it delivered.

Side bar! I am well versed in wood. When I was living in close proximity to my mother, every freaking weekend my buddy and I would go out in thigh deep snow and cut down trees, then cut them into rounds, then haul the rounds, then split and stack the rounds, then burn them, and then the next weekend.....you see a pattern forming here. I have pretty much nothing but resentment in my heart for cutting firewood, and the idea of having it delivered, ready to stack, to my home, seemed like an extravagance.

So the wood is delivered. I am tickled beyond belief. My coworkers husband? Not so much. See, there is a flight of stairs that needs to be traversed to get to my "wood stacking area", also known as the empty spot by my front door/exterior closet. (used by my neighbors as a patio/storage for barbecue. Fuck that noise! Wood, baby!) I see no problem hauling wood up a flight of stairs to fill a closet. Granted, I had spent that entire morning emptying the closet of last years remnants of wood, stacking and sorting it...without gloves. (I'm so fucking brilliant sometimes. Really. I went to get gloves before J arrived with more wood, however. Logic.)

Anyway, J devises a plan involving planks of wood, pieces of kindling and a wheelbarrow with a hole in it for the wood movement. It works, and I am doubly tickled. (It doesn't take much, you see.)

So we haul. We stack. We carry. I absolutely destroy my fake nails. DESTROY. It was Black-Metal screaming DESTRUCTION. Seriously.

At about the half way mark, I have to pee. I inform J of this, and leave him outside with a cup of coffee and a promise that I will be right back.

I go into the bathroom, admire my destroyed hands, and pee.

And realize that I have started my period. And all the supplies as such are in the other bathroom. With much swearing, I get up, go to the other bathroom, obtain the materials, change my underwear, take care of business.

Walk back outside to J, who is kind of staring off into space. I'm sure he thought I was vomiting or had my intestines fall out because I was gone for so long.

We finish.

J leaves.

I go back inside, after admiring my beautiful wood pile and GINORMOUS pile of cedar kindling (oh, cedar kindling, how I would marry you if I could), and wash my mangled hands.

Then I began thinking.....

Guys don't have to worry about shit like that! They don't have to think about breaking their nails while out in the nature! Don't have to have tampons in their trucks, just in case!

I am such a tomboy in some ways. I resent my period in ways I can't really articulate. But how fitting is it that my tomboy ass would have to hit the pause button while stacking firewood to go deal with her period. Sigh.

TMI? Probably.

I went and had my nails fixed today. I look like a porn star again. (at least my hands do--my tits aren't big enough for porn.) (Welcome, porn googlers!) I told my friend of my wood tribulations, and he said, straight faced, of course, "Too bad the little asian ladies at the salon can't fix your period for you too, huh?"

I thought it was funny. And I love my ladies at the salon. But I would love them more if they could do that, too.