Weeds

This week is weed-mania; the legal sort.  Although, in my opinion I wish yard weeds were actually illegal.  Meaning: government, take care of my weeds.  Ha!  Yeah right.

My yard has become what an abandoned field looks like after rainy mornings followed by blaringly bright and sunny afternoons.  My yard, to an old retired person who meticulously cares for their property, is hell.  Seriously, it's gone from bad to worse.  Last night, however, that all changed.

Strapping on my railroad bibs, which are horrendously unflattering to my naturally sexy body (as if!), I set out to conquer and reclaim the land behind my abode.  After almost two hours of sweat, mosquito bites and dirt flinging, I'd say I'm about 70% done.  And at that point the last thing I felt like doing was bagging up all my weedy carcasses.  So I left them till today, when I'd return to tackle more.  Only, it has rained all, day, long.  Awesome.

Way to go, me!  I left my yard with about 7 or so piles of yard waste, broken lights left by the former tenant, an old Christmas tree left by the landlord the Christmas before last, a water-killed and warped/broken wooden kitchen chair, and...need I go on?  All in all, my backyard was left looking like a small tornado had passed through.  That was all find and dandy, when I thought I'd be picking it up tonight.  Fat chance that's going to go as planned! 

I still feel a small bit of pride welling in my inner-most being.  A sense of happiness instead of shame when thinking about my yard.  I realize that I feel more comfortable leaving my house without makeup and looking absolutely dreadful than I do with the thought of other's seeing my weed-infested yard!