You don’t dig for hidden treasures without getting dirty..
Digging in with slow-long-srokes, deep-driving-probes, stopping to luxuriate at the brilliance of the spark coming off my tool.
There is something about that one spot- the golden spot- I discovered that hitting it every time send sparks flying in flashes, and currents coursing through my tool, into my body. The sweetness of the discovery would make even a rock cry out in ecstasy.
To stop before it is right to do stop would have been a waste. No one finds treasures by giving up on digging, I wasn’t about to give up before I was done, even if I had already dug myself into the deep hole.
I was exploring a deep mine of molten gold.
She’d been one hard rock to break, but with a few well-placed strokes the rock yielded water. Soon I was licking and sucking, and my thirst was not about to be satiated until I have done some digging in.
Straddling… while I am perched… was a bit clumsy, but the resounding whimpering and moaning echoing from within as my hammer kept hitting the spot, indicates that the brief moment of straddling, albeit shifting my center of gravity, was worth the cloud of gold dust in heaven.
Being straddled, the probe for what treasures there was, wasn’t as deep as I would loved to go. so, got I down on the floor again, stooped like a dog, and another time lying prone like a missionary… explore all possible angles.
Don’t tell me you are thinking all that dirt; digging for treasure is a dirty job, but one has to do it. I had to do it.