The Grass Is Always Greener

We do not know the first thing about gardening or landscape maintenance or any of that water-it, trim-it, prune-it kind of stuff. And yet, we keep buying houses (ok, so this is only the second one and yes, technically I bought the first one before we ever even met, but hey, he knew what he was marrying into, so yes, we keep buying houses) with these elaborate yards and we haven't got a flipping clue what to do with them. So, like any pair of reasonable, rational adults would, we just ignore them and hope they go away.

However, now that Hooch is getting on up there in months and the weather's starting to improve--we may even be able to expect one nice day per month now--it would be nice to take him outside to play without having to leave home to do it. With that in mind, we set out today to pull up about seven years' worth (not an exaggeration) of overgrown ivy. Well, that sucked. After yanking and pulling and heaving and getting dirt in my eyes, mouth, and other assorted places where I'd just as soon not have dirt, not to mention grunting like I haven't grunted since my futile attempt at birthing my child, it finally began to look like we were getting somewhere. As I paused to assess our progress, I sneezed. And pissed myself. And that concludes my yard maintenance contributions.

Pillow Talk

So, thanks for dropping by, sleep. Sure you can't stay the night?

No, no, that's ok. I understand. That's not the kind of relationship we have anymore. It's just, ya know, every now and then, at times like these—in the dead of the night—I wish it were.

Oh, never mind me. Ha ha! Crazy talk, just a passing fancy.

So anyway, drop by any night you feel like it, you're always welcome. We know how to have a good time together, don't we?

Yeah.

Ok, see ya around. Or not. Whatever.

Call me!