Wednesday night I had a dream that a crew from the city came and did our yard work.
It was that out of control.
Yesterday, my nephew took a look at our weed infested lawn and asked me what I was growing?
Last night, at about 8:30, I decided it was time we regain control.
I took on the dandelions.
Drew manned the weed-eater and trimmer.
Ethan mowed small sections of the lawn until Drew was ready to take over.
Aubrey and Bradley were armed with clippers and deadheaded the roses.
Owen was there with snow shovel in hand, ready to catch the fallen.
All the while, Karie slept.
The kids did well until about 9:15.
I suggested they ride their bikes.
Drew continued mowing and I continued weeding.
By this time I had moved to the flower beds and the street light was our only source of light.
The kids were cheering for my cause, chanting
"Die morning glory! Die! I shall dance on your grave!"
I suggested they go and get some popsicles.
We called it quits at 9:40.
I was dirty and sweaty and smelly.
After getting everyone "one more drink of water" and trying to satisfy their pains caused by near-starvation, I decided that summer is not my favorite season.
I hate being hot.
It makes me irritable.
I hate feeling sweat dripping down my back while talking to my neighbor on her front porch.
I hate how my clothes have that irritating stiction with my skin.
I hate not being able to do yard work in the middle of the day.
That makes me even more irritable.
I'm a prisoner.
I am bound by heavy chains to air-conditioned locations.
I told Drew that when I'm in the nursing home,
please make certain that I do not have
a plastic covered mattress.
I don't think that I could handle that.
A fan blowing directly on me would be a plus.
And if it wouldn't be too much to ask, please play with my hair.
(Drew just smiled at me and started playing with my hair.)
I love Drew.
