Paint my house

One of the major benefits I hope to get out of hobby farming is that I have to work my tushy off, which is definitely necessary because years of city living and desk work have made me feel like I'm no longer 20 years old.  No longer being 20 years old probably has something to do with it as well but still, I'd like to get a little bit of it back.

You know what? It just might work. Today it's just 12:45 but I've already mowed a couple of acres, split a chord of wood, and turned, well, a shitload of chicken shit into my tomato patch, removing an equal quantity of rocks in the process. The plants go out tomorrow. (It's been a cool wet spring.) I am now filthy and sweaty and my back aches. Perfect.

Now, since you evidently aren't going to do it for me, I have to get cracking on painting my house. All that other stuff was pretty much an excuse not to start doing it.

You know what? People need this. We need to do physical work and see the result. It's essential to body and soul. And missing from most American's lives these days.