Reflections on a hole

Victory belongs to the most persevering.

Napoleon Bonaparte

I've done it. I have conquered my arch rival. Smote my enemy and emerged victorious! (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you need to skip down and read yesterday's blog entry.

Yes, finally today after nearly two weeks of battle, the concrete slab was extricated. Picture it! I approach my enemy with stealth and determination, grateful that Mother Nature was on my side. A torrential downpour during the night softened (and muddied to the extreme!) the earth, assisting my excavation strategy. I circle my adversary, seeking its Achilles heel. Finding none, I resort to my trusty trowel and the scraping process begins yet again. Probably no more than a 1/4 to 1/2 cup at a time. My hands bloody in no time and my sneakers are mired in wet mud--giving me a Hermann Munster look. (Very attractive!). I glance at my watch and vow to give this travesty no more than 20 minutes. As I'm working, I hear the unmistakable thump and thud of cars colliding and I look up to see a three-car chain reaction accident. I pause momentarily to see if anyone is hurt and when I see three heads emerge from the vehicles, all talking on cell phones, I go back to my task. (This is not as callous as it sounds--there is generally one collision outside my door on a weekly basis; one learns to assess the extent of the damage and go about one's business. Besides, this one was little more than a fender-bender.)

My progress is slow. (Is the suspense not killing you???). I resign myself that this is not going to be my day of victory after all and pick up my crowbar rather dispiritedly for one last blow. Clang! I hit it so hard that sparks fly. Was that movement? I strike again. It lists to one side. Scrambling down like my life depends on it, I tug. It wiggles. I heave. It tumbles. With one final thrust, I yank it out of the hole and drop it with an unceremonious thud to the ground. I toy with the idea of a victory dance, but then decide the accident victims--who were now bickering and casting aspersions on each other's character in the middle of the street--will not appreciate my glee. So I resort to the task of transplanting the cucumber plant that precipitated this arduous task.

Victory is sweet! So, here's what I've learned from my adventures in excavation:

1. Little efforts really do add up to success.
2. The hardest part of any task is staying in the trenches.
3. Sometimes, even when others offer to help, you just have to do it yourself.
4. Anger and frustration are great motivators.
5. Sometimes you have to get really muddy to affect change.
6. Woody Allen was right--success is achieved mostly just by showing up
7. A little manual labor never hurt anyone (but it's murder on your back!)
8. Just when things seem impossible, the Universe comes along and gives you an edge.
9. Some days its your turn to revel in success; some days it's your turn to get into a fender-bender. Hopefully in the end, you've had more days like the former rather than the latter.
10. Oftentimes its the little victories that make life sweet