I hate yard work. Not hate as in wow I really would rather sit with a book kind of hate. But H-A-T-E yard work. If I had my way I would have either woods or a concrete yard. Since when they were putting in our septic they took our woods I have a yard.
I hate the yard.
First there is grass. Okay, not grass. Weeds that are green and look like grass. Except when you mow and then you kick up dust and rocks. Oh and lets not forget the dandelions, that Allie swears are fairy flowers and please stop killing them MOM!
Why am I mowing, you ask? Because Hubs is on another triple and the
grass weeds are high enough that I might need to borrow the neighbor’s goats over for dinner. I hear dandelions are good for goats.
Back to my point, yes I have a point. And yes, I have a neighbor with goats. As in plural. She also has sheep and a sheep dog that is afraid of the stairs and the sheep. But I digress.
My point is I hate, HATE, yard work. But there I was on the first hot day of Spring (or in New England summer that began after the last frost) mowing the weeds. Since it is a hot and humid 75 degrees I am wearing the least amount of clothes possible. Much to my neighbor’s dismay.
Why did I choose this day to mow the
lawn what passes for our lawn? Because I live on a small road with perfect lawns. Well, perfect except for ours, and I was having a moment of lawn insecurity. Truthfully I have another neighbor, but her lawn is hidden behind the best sledding hill in the state. So I wasn’t feeling inferior there, but the other two?
Not a freaking weed on theirs!
I put the girls in front of the TV, well Boo with her IPAD that is only now used for Austin & Allie at home (she uses it for the real purposes at therapy and school I SWEAR) and did yard work. Freaking yard work.
One neighbor drives by, the one with the hidden yard, we wave and say hi. We chuckle over the fact that our husbands are always “working” so we get stuck with the manly-jobs. Then another neighbor stops and comments on how the
beast from hell yard is coming along. Then she says: Don’t you just love yard work? I love being in the garden. She of the perfect lawn, garden and flower yard. If she wasn’t so freaking nice I might hate her. Instead I just envy her lawn.
Me? Nope, I would rather relax with a nice glass of wine.
Instead I am hot, sweaty, dirty, dear God is that a tick on me???? With snot hanging down my nose because hello pollen. Holy crap that was a spider crawling on my arm. Why do there have to be all these bugs? What was God thinking when he created the slug?
But I carried on. I put in the effort. Tried to make something out of weeds then just covered it in mulch. Mulch is good, right? This is what I ended up with: a mowed
weed, I mean lawn and some replanted trees in a 2×2 area.
Yes, that is Bailey. The crazy now destructive toddler, no longer a puppy, who is defecating on all my hard work. I gave up at that point and took a shower with a glass of wine.
Yes, I took the glass of wine with me. Because I hate yard work.