Gloves Are Such A Handy Thing

After untold weeks of tearing up my hands while ripping out dead ivy, I decided to actually wear gloves this weekend. Usually I just go out there and start yanking, and only when I'm about to pass out from the heat do I notice that my fingers are more sausage-like than usual, and I have blisters.

Of course, wearing gloves requires first finding them. My garage is a tad disorganized. Or, really, it's organized in a LIFO (last in, first out for the non-computer geeks out there) fashion -- everything I've used in the last two months is piled right by the door, but things I haven't used recently are in the unlit areas.

(Jeff's shed/garage is much more meticulously organized, but has similar results. In searching for gloves, he found all the left gloves, but the right gloves were somewhere else. That's just crazy. My method at least makes some sense.)

So I finally found two gloves, and then I had to do the spider stomp dance on them. Scrawny Mike claims that the twist method is better, but I figure that will just slightly injure and seriously piss them off -- if I'm sticking my fingers in there, I want them dead.

Anyhow, I yanked a whole bunch of dead ivy out of the ground until I filled up the bin.

Naturally, when I took off the gloves I didn't have any blisters on my palms, but the stiff leather had rubbed off all the skin on two of my knuckles. Sometimes you just can't win...