That little 90s slice of heaven in the title is a pun.
I admit that we are kind-of terrible about taking care of our yard. We rent, so sometimes it’s hard to feel a sense of ownership to the point that we want to get out our shovel and be like, “Hey yard. We dig you.” Hahaha, get it? Wow, thank you. I’ll be here all week. Anyway, here’s just one tasty sliver of our super embarrassing yard:
Mmmmm yes. So good. Weeds. Rocks. Weeds growing in between rocks. An old wooden planter with a 35° angled plastic tub inside, better to hold another part of our thoughtfully curated weeds collection.
This brings me to my nice old man neighbor. (Not Mr. Bacon, the man who goes topless except for suspenders in the summer.) This old man neighbor and his wife have an extremely well-kept yard, which is basically like a nature wonderland, complete with frolicking squirrels.
My yard is probably the squirrel equivalent of getting told you’re going to Disneyland then ending up at like Monty’s World of Grilled Cheese Sandwiches instead. Which is not a real place, but it sounds kinda trashy and definitely much worse than Disneyland. Take note of this stylish vignette:
So today I roll up in my sweet Chevy and basically catch my neighbor red-handed (or more like “weed-wack handed”) trying to sneak in some weed wacking while we were gone. When he saw me pull up, he was wearing both noise-dampening headphones and a sheepish expression. He explained himself like this:
“I did the whole alley, and I ran out of things to weed wack.”
That’s right. He had to weed-wack our yard simply because he was out of weeds in his perfect yard (that probably didn’t have any weeds anyway). Then he ran out of weeds and simply found that unacceptable. So after going up and down the alley that happily joins our homes, he was jonesing so badly for more weeds that he was willing to wack another man’s yard. (Ummm…that’s what she said.)
He actually seemed embarrassed that he was caught doing secret yard work for me. But, really, I was the one who was embarrassed. Because did I mention that our Christmas tree is still sitting out there? I actually cringed while typing that. Take a look-see:
Yep, that dead mound of stringy nature has been chillin’ right there for the last 5.75 months. Missing in this image are the 2-foot tall weeds that used to keep him warm on cold nights. What will he do without his company?
When my husband arrived home from work and I filled him in on the afternoon’s events, he promptly made his way outside to dispose of the tree (a chore which took less than ten minutes, if you need a better picture of the laziness of the situation).
Anyone else ever been subject to a neighbor’s covert yard work? Are we the only ones who sometimes wait six months to dispose of our Christmas tree?