Another weekend of Work Camp

So I'm having friends over tonight and am getting paranoid already that I am going to drink too much wine. I have this nice malbec I'm excited about. yumm. ok. lost myself. They think I'm joking when I say that I have to get up at 7am tomorrow morning (Saturday) but clearly they do not realize that my weekends consist of hard labor that begins at 9am on the farm. Yes, I live in Manhattan during the week, have a job that to my friends and relatives from central PA that seems "glamorous", I'm a little bit high maintenance, and I do take pride (probably too much) in my appearance. A typical high-strung super driven, slightly psychotic but endearing nonetheless, City Girl. So I'm a bit out of sorts when my husband forces me to get on the roof of the barn and remove shingles. Remove shingles? wtf? I swear to you, I almost fell off the roof because I was wearing platform rain boots and lost my balance while trying to pry out a stubborn nail (one of those ones that you hammer, not that you paint). When I realized that my NYC friends really didn't understand what the f is going on in my new weekend farm life, I thought I'd start a blog. A place to bitch and moan about the back pain, shoulder cramps, and cracked rough hands that have begun invading my previously simple city life after my husband and I bought a 23 acre farm in Frenchtown, New Jersey. A decrepit farm in need of some SERIOUS work I should say. Let the bitching and moaning begin