Just got outta the shower after putting in 3.5 hours ripping out some horribly overgrown shrubs that have been there since '60. Bastards did NOT want to give up easily. Sliced my shins up pretty good, blew a hydro line on the backhoe, and had my trusty rusty Kubota knock my happy ass flat when I backed it closer to the bush. The blasted chute on the mower deck caught me just above the ankle and power slammed me like it was a MMA heavyweight champ. Landed like a tub of excrement and caught a stump of a branch with my forearm on the way down. Moused it up pretty good and gave me a temporary case of Tourette's syndrome.
Came inside and layed down for a minute and the Old Hen asked if I felt OK. I told her no. She took my blood pressure. 146/90. She freaked. I told her to try it again. 140/85. If she'd have tried it five minutes later, I'll guarantee it would have been right around 125/60. I've had a slow recovery time ever since I was a kid.
Watching the boobtube and typing on this laptop is what I'm doing for the rest of the day. There's always tomorrow for more hard labor. I've had enough for today.