UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

Sometimes we can’t stand our routines, we try to find every possible way to break free from it. Sometimes, no matter the cost. I never really understood why. But then I guess the comfort level of different for everyone. I have a routine. It’s not that much different than from school days. I can’t even call it a `summer routine.` There are factors thrown in there that doesn’t make it seem like a routine though. It’s basically this – sit around and do nothing, do some work in the house when my mom calls, take a nap because it usually wears me out, wake up to help mom in the kitchen and alternate between helping dad in the yard, dinner, stay up all night playing videogames or watching movies, then sleeping to wake up around noon. Oh, and shower inbetween doing things.

It’s not as bad as it seems, really. I’m comfortable with it. Unlike most people, I don’t get bored or tired of my routine. Besides, what else is there to do in Poughkeepsie? Not like I have a great deal of friends around here. The loner in me prohibits it. I don’t go down to my dad’s shop because there’s absolutely no routine there. Not for me at least. Well, maybe except go to Poppy’s Deli every morning for a `Hungry Man Special,` watch morning talkshows, go through a couple magazines until I get tired of absorbing all the needless information, then taking a nap.

That aside, I’ve never been more physically exhausted in my life.

I thought it was bad yesterday, it’s ten times worse today. During the storm yesterday, a tree limb fell from the gigantic tree in the front yard. I should’ve taken a picture of it with my new camera but I completely forgot. From the time my dad came home, it was right to work. I would’ve done it sooner, but he said to not go there. People die from tree limbs falling on them all the time apparently.

He took the chainsaw he stole borrowed from someone [he just brings all this equipment home – we have three lawnmowers and two weedwackers in the garage] and I had the machete, hacking away. The limb wouldn’t budge no matter how much we pulled. Joe’s dad was coming around at the same time. I swear, that guy must have alcohol in his veins. He’s never sober, or seems like it. And when he talks? It’s like gibberish. He’s Albanian, but that’s really no excuse. I don’t even know why he’s trying to be all buddy-buddy with my dad. I guess he’s thinking about buying another car and wants the mechanic to accompany him.

First, we tried tying the rope to the back of my dads truck, the Dakota. I manned the truck and when he said `Go!` I went. Unfortunately, the rope snapped. Or loosened. Let’s face it, my dad’s not a boyscout. Joe’s dad [we either forgot or never got his name] insisted we tie it to the back of his truck, an older Nissan pickup. I’ll never forget what happened next for as long as I live.

The truck pulled, and pulled, and pulled .. until it almost did a 360 out of strain. The wheels were pretty much sliding on the wet ground, and not forward – but left to right instead. Then it gave out eventually and we went right back to cutting. Joe’s dad took our chainsaw and he tried but the tracks were stuck, so he went to go get his and brought Dave back with him. Dave’s eleven, so him being there was pointless. Dylan’s eleven but he could eat Dave for breakfast. Anyway, his chainsaw worked on the limb like a hot knife through butter and cut it up into about seven chunks, then they left.

Dad said he’d lift the limbs into the back of the truck and told me to work on the box after the limb detached and fell onto my moms flower box and broke one of the wooden restraint boards. My dad’s 48 – strong as an ox, but his health isn’t at its best. Being the good son, I alleviated the workload when I started lugging the pieces. They were about four feet long and weighed over fifty pounds each if I’m guessin’ right. They were heavy. He doubted I could lift one of them. I’m about three inches shorter than him and not as big.

I sure showed him when I lifted the entire limb up before Joe’s dad cut it into pieces. He said I was strong. But that’s not the first time I did something seemingly impossible. The day before, me, Dylan, Jason, and Dylan’s little friend Patrick took the cover off the pool and brought it into the driveway to wash off. It was a four man job – the thing was heavy. We washed it off and folded it up. When my folks got home, mom told us to take it in the backyard and put it in the shed. Matt – Pat’s older brother, and Jason were struggling to pick it up. They barely lifted it an inch off the ground then gave up. Now, Jason works out. More than me. And he’s vain about his body to boot. But I picked up that folded tarp with ease, threw it over my shoulder, climbed the stairs to get to the back, walked the sixty feet and put it in the shed.

Back to the tree. I hacked away at the limbs like a madman. I must’ve been a samurai in a past life. It took three hours in all. Jason claimed to have a cold so he didn’t do anything. He got yelled at it for it. I can’t believe he’ll be a senior this year. Well, first year senior because he’s not very bright. Dylan actually helped a lot more. My guess is he must want something for it. Me and him fixed the gutters. And when I got back inside, I could barely walk.

I woke up this morning and I could barely move. It hurt to turn over. It’s not THAT bad. Know what time I got up though? Noon. Well, that’s when I actually got off the bed and went to start on the pool. I still can’t see the bottom yet. It’s supposed to be clear and blue, all I see is the ugliest shade of green. The pump started with ease though and the fuse didn’t even trip. I’m crossing my fingers.

So now all that’s left to do is the laundry, clean my room, and fill out these passport applications. We’re going to Georgia, I don’t really think we need passports. And prom’s tomorrow. Of course, I’m not going. I should’ve asked . .no, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ll be down in the city this weekend anyway at my aunt’s house. It’s about the size of my garage. I don’t even know where we’ll sleep.

But I guess that’s all in the routine.