I had lots of time alone to think this morning. Two hours, in fact. But it wasn't the reclining-on-the-sofa or lounging-in-bed kind of thinking. It was the scooping-up-bucketsful-of-water-because-I-left-the-sprinkler-on-all-night kind of thinking. Yup. For two hours I scooped and carried and dumped, repeat. I was supposed to start some very cool workout thing with David this morning, but I thought I had to do my best to save the lawn. There is still more to scoop, so I'll probably go do a few more loads right now. My fingers were numb in a very weird way afterwards. And I now have sore muscles (which I'm sure will only get more sore) in places I haven't felt for ages.
I'm pretty sure that I'll never forget to turn off the sprinkler again, though. At least I hope not. Darn those natural consequences.
I also decided that I like irony as a literary element, but not so much in my own life.