I sit at the bar with my coffee and eat, satisfied that I didn’t burn them or the cabin down. I watch a handful of YouTube videos that explain the steps of how to chop wood. I know we have an ax, but honestly, I don't know if I can even swing it over my head, but I'll try.
After I finish my food, I change into jeans and boots, and just to amuse myself, I grab a plaid button-up shirt. When I walk outside, Bruno follows, being my protector. Bruno runs as fast as he can to the pond, and when he goes to jump in, I yell at him at the top of my lungs, but he doesn't listen and sloshes through it, jumping around.
"Oh for fuck’s sake," I mutter under my breath. "You're going to stink like shit!" I yell. His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he runs around the property, dirty and happy as can be. Bruno sprints toward me, and I squeal, quickly moving away so he can’t jump on me. The damage is done, so I don't even scold him for it anymore.
I find the ax in a stump and manage to wiggle it free, then grip it in my hand. I take a few practice swings, putting all of my strength into it. As Bruno plays, I grab a wheelbarrow and wheel it to the stack of wood on the side of the shed, and struggle to lift the pieces in. I wasn’t built to carry heavy shit, but I’m trying regardless. Once I have enough, I move to the cutting area and dump them on the ground. Grabbing a log, I place it down on the chopping stump but lose my grip and break a goddamn nail.
"Are you kidding me?" I groan, shaking my head. They’re long overdue for a manicure anyway, but still, that hurt like a bitch.
I try again and adjust the piece of wood. Grabbing the ax, I lift it over my head, putting all of my strength and body weight into it, and then the sharp blade crashes down and slices the log in two. I drop the ax, and my mouth falls open in shock. Soon, I’m jumping up and down with victory, then laugh my ass off. If my mother could see me doing this, she’d probably faint with shock, then ask me if I’ve lost my damn mind.
I repeat the steps, doing precisely as I did before until I have an entire wheelbarrow full of logs. As I'm rolling it toward the patio door, Bruno barks, and my internal alarm goes off. Immediately, I turn around, searching the surrounding areas and see him chasing after a rabbit. Placing my hand over my heart, I try to calm myself, then continue forward.
"Bruno!" I shout. That dog needs a Xanax.
I make it to the patio door, then slide it open. I carry each piece inside one by one, and neatly stack it next to the fireplace. My arms and body are so sore, and I don't think I've ever done this much physical work in my entire life. Knowing Bruno needs a bath, I go to the kitchen and grab the Dawn dish soap. If it's good enough for the ducks during oil spills, it’ll be good enough for stinky dogs. I go back outside and put the wheelbarrow up and wrangle Bruno to the back patio, then grab the water hose.
He jumps all over me, leaving muddy paw prints on my clothes, and scratches me with his nails. Bruno nearly knocks me over when he gets excited like this. I try to use my best Eli manly voice and tell him to heel, but he doesn't listen, so I resort to begging him instead of yelling. Eventually, he sits, and I run water over him and soap him up real good. Once he's clean, he tries to run off, but I grab him by his collar, and he shakes himself all over me.
"You're a little shit sometimes, Bruno," I tell him, but I'm laughing about it because he's so happy. "And now I need a shower too."
I open the door, and he runs inside, hyper as can be. He chases Chanel around the living room until she's had enough and runs upstairs. Water is all over the floor as he continues shaking and air-drying. With an annoyed groan, I clean up the mess, then try to towel dry him off. I'm filthy, and my back is already aching. Tonight, I'll try to make myself dinner that doesn't include a microwave while downing a bottle of wine. I'm going to need all the luck in the world to actually make something edible.
Eli’s been in the hospital for a week, and I still haven’t spoken to him. I think he’d be proud of how I've taken care of myself for seven days. Even I'm kinda shocked, considering I couldn't boil water before arriving here. I’ve chopped wood, learned to open wine with a corkscrew, and even baked homemade lasagna. Next up is learning how to change my oil and build a house with my bare hands. I laugh at the thought, but honestly, Eli is to thank for this. If he hadn't made fun of me and challenged me to do things on my own, I probably would've eaten TV dinners and ramen for a month.
Today, I slept in because I've stayed up late doing home improvement tasks after my homework assignments, trying to keep my mind busy. I hung photos that have been in a closet for years. I cleaned the cabin, did more laundry, rearranged the living room furniture, and even dusted the top of the kitchen cabinets. At some point, I won't have anything else to do but worry and waste away.
Calling the hospital is one of my everyday habits now. I'm transferred to the nurses’ station, who then tells me Eli was released
