Something happened to me when I came into my own house that I never would have guessed that I would care about someday. I want the perfect yard.
One time, I think I might have been in high school, my Dad rounded us up and announced that it was Saturday, aka chore day, and we would be pulling the weeds. I only have a specific memory of having to do this job once, twice at the most (once in the back, once in the front - could've been the same day) but that memory is burned on my brain. It was THE most torturous chore EVER. The sweltering Las Vegas heat, the rocks, my brothers fighting the whole time, the smell. I swear to you I can remember the smell of those weeds.
Anyway, yesterday Russell mowed the front yard and it looked pretty good. But not great. We have rocks between the edge of our yard and the street, and the weeds, well, they grow like weeds. Stupid dandelions. I don't know what came over me. I started pulling and I was on a roll. Neighbors came and went, Russell even went to his ninja class and came back - I was still out there going crazy on these weeds. And I didn't stop with the rocks. I was all over the place. My yard looks immaculate.
But I still haven't started on that final project that's due tomorrow. I get so much done when I'm avoiding doing something else.
P.S. This summer, I will have the perfect yard.
6 comments:
If you have become obsessed with your yard you are now a kindred of Garett's. Don't get him started on the topic of "trees". Seriously. Don't.
It looks awesome, Caity.
I just noticed I left out the word "spirit" in comment above. Why?
Looking back on Saturday's chores, I do seem to remember that you were habitually missing... Also, the weeds were followed by picking up dog poop. Which wasn't too bad because sometimes Patrick and I would dump our bag of said feces over the wall.
Please say that isn't true.
Now you know the real reason I played sports in high school.
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