Despite the rain, I spent some of today outside moving rocks around. We're building this wall slash rock-garden, and I had the great good fortune to be gifted a gigantic load of authentic New England rocks by my neighbor, who had too many. (I don't remember if I wrote about it in these pages, but we've reached a point around here where people are paying for rocks. Our New English farming forebearers are surely spinning in their graves.) Bringing them over, though, we just dumped them willy-nilly, mostly over grass that in the project plans is supposed to stay grass (I've learned from bitter experience that grass doesn't like being under rocks for days and weeks). Also, it's hard to find the right sort of rocks for particular spots when they're all in a big jumble. So I picked up many of them and moved them around. It was much like when you're doing a jigsaw puzzle and you have to lay out all the pieces before you can start, only it took a little more room. It was also a better workout.
Also, when my gloves got wet the color ran on the inside and turned my hands bright bright red. Imagine my surprise! Now I know how a lobster feels, only without the boiling and pain and all.