Good Friday, yes. I did not have to go to work at Co-op. Good Friday is Co-op’s Black Friday, and I saw proof that it was several other retailer’s, as well.

I had some ambitious goals for today. They were as follows:

• Weed flowerbeds
• Plant some flowers
• Spray fence line with herbicide
• Mulch
• Mail payment
• Get lunch
• Take trash off

Would you like to know how many of those were accomplished? Two. The answer is two. Well, technically, I did take the trash off, but I brought it back, so I’m not sure that counts.

Here’s what happened.

I lollygagged around here all morning, drinking coffee, watching birds, finishing my book and doing my New York Times puzzles and helicoptering over Chester, who was acting off. By the time I realized I was starving and sustaining life on a banana, it was nearly noon and I still hadn’t showered. Of course I will do yard work without being squeaky clean, but I didn’t want to go gallivanting around my hometown and run into every person I’ve ever known in my whole life home for Easter.

So anyway, I get ready, load Chester up (I figured it’d either make him carsick and therefore purge whatever had him feeling less than perfect or perk him right up.), anod headed down to Loveday’s. If traffic was this horrific on this end of Sevier County, I do not even want to speculate on what it looked like in Pigeon Forge. I whip into the last spot at the market and I’m eyeing the grounds suspiciously. They don’t have their greenhouses stocked and ready and I see no evidence of bagged mulch. A very bad sign, indeed. I leave Chess in Maggie and go in to see about things.

The line is long, so I look at cheese. Then I look at butter. I shouldn’t buy butter and cheese because I am only on my first stop. I spy Steve or Tim, whichever one, and catch his eye. I ask about bagged mulch. They do not and I am dreading going to Home Depot. Why oh why did I not go somewhere earlier this week? Or for that matter, last month? Dang it. I make an executive decision I will pay a little more and wing into McMahan’s, or whatever it is now but forever McMahan’s to us natives, on the way to the post office.

Well, that didn’t happen because that place was packed as well. And I didn’t see any in the sheds anyway. I continue to the post office.

It is here I complete my first task. Obviously I left Chess in the car again, guarding my pocketbook, but I wish I had brought it in because there was no one in line and I could have bought stamps unhurriedly. Strangest thing ever not to see people lined out the door.

When I topped the hill and saw Tractor Supply’s sign I thought I could swing in there and get some mulch on my way back. And I hate that, since they were such a rival of the Co-op’s, but desperate times call for desperate measures and there’s no Co-op in Seymour. Unfortunately. Because I begged for one. Anyway, TSC had about four spaces left in the lot and I decided on the spot I just didn’t wanna work that hard today, anyway. I could weed and leave the mulching till Monday, or whenever I got by Co-op. I wasn’t about to go all the way over to David’s nursery. This was getting ridiculous.

On to the dump. I wasn’t sure if they’d be open but I had checked Sevier County Government’s website and all it said was the courthouse was closed. Obviously I was flitting about, running my errands, but plenty of times the convenience centers are open when the rest of us are closed. Kinda like the library, I guess since they’re open on Saturdays, as a rule. Well, you guessed it, the dump was closed. I wasn’t the only one who tried- a truck pulled in behind me and I imagine they were as surprised as I was.

I doubled back for lunch. I like making all right turns if possible, plus I didn’t want it getting cold as I hunted bagged mulch like most kids would be hunting eggs in a day or two. I had my heart set on Zaxbys. But I figured at this rate, they’d be out of chicken. Let’s see.

Not much of a line. Yay.

But time to read signage. Egg rolls, really? I can get on board with funnel cakes. Funnel cakes are always acceptable, because they’re a rarity outside the fair and Dollywood. But who says, “I could really go for an egg roll. You know who has good ones?” At this point, person #2 would name a local Chinese restaurant. “No, Zaxbys!”

Says no one, ever.

Cashier was pleasant and had my drink ready. Yay.

Got my food and came home. Decided to eat on the porch.

Chester was looking and acting back to his normal 100%. Yay!

Open box. Inspect sandwich. Sigh. Was not the club, but instead their signature. Was not surprised. Ate it anyway. Was pleased and secretly glad they screwed it up, because I’d been wanting to try it. And since I’m currently boycotting Chickalay’s prices, it was a perfect substitute.

Sat on my porch, decompressed with a good friend, showed off all my fishing tackle, had a beer, watched birds. Fixed some mediocre pork chops for supper with cheater mashed taters. I fixed the little reds tonight. I prefer the garlic ones. Was washing dishes when I heard —and felt— an explosion. Had just turned Chess out and he was raising Cain. Stepped outside, nothing appeared amiss. I don’t know what it was, but the neighbors on the corner in the subdivision had been burning this evening so maybe a propane tank or something got mixed in. Who knows? I never heard any sirens so I guess everything and everybody is ok. It’s about more excitement than I was prepared to handle. I may still be in recovery tomorrow and unable to weed. Time will tell. But I tell you what I won’t be doing: spreading mulch.

Love from Appalachia’s laziest inhabitant,

~Amy