Blewh, had a tick the size of a stag beetle on my stomach today. It didn't really dig in yet, but they are not supposed to be that big this early in the season. There was no winter to speak of. Guess last yers' stags are roaming free.

We spent the better part of the day mowing the vineyard again. Two people using three different mowers and still we didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Fuck that shit is hard. First I used a flat push-mower, clearing as many terraces as I could before the terrain causes some to crumble and get too narrow (and G strictly forbids me to risk slipping and getting my feet carved off), at which point I switched to a small electrical garden stick to clear the bunches left around the grape bases. Then, so as to not loiter once the batteries on those died out, G took the flat mower to get a few more lines in, and I used the heavy stick mower. Cannot move my arms right now. Seriously, I am typing this with my nose. 

    Have you ever seen two exhausted people try to have sex? I barely managed to shower, which is must, as one is covered in bits of vegetation head to toe. Don't even remember how I made it to bed.  'Take me. Take me now.' 'I am not taking you anywhere. You love being on top, you climb on.' 'Best I can do right now is hug you. Come on. Find some place to work it and give it to me hard.' '*snooorrreee*'

Yeah.

No. 

Three days of hardcore menial labour. Half a vineyard to go. It's getting warm, too. Got patches of red neck and brown elbows, though some of that are oil stains and mild bruises from the mower and the tiny pellets of pebbles spraying about if I hit a bit of a dirt pile one of the dogs managed to leave behind the last time they were burying a fetch stick.