My yard looks like the depths of hell. This would be because my riding lawnmower (Which I love) broke down (Which I do NOT love). This means that we had to load the thing on a trailer to have it fixed. It needs a new carborater. It isn’t a cheap repair, either.
If it weren’t bad enough that I have to live in fear of losing one or both of my children in the jungle of crabgrass that masquerades as my front lawn, the story takes a much, much, MUCH more annoying twist when you add my neighbors to the equation.
I have written about them before, and not in the far too distant past, either. Two years ago, the wife came over and asked if she could use our riding mower to cut their grass because their lawnmower was broken. She said that she would fill it up with gasoline and take good care it. I decided to follow State Farm’s example and like I good neighbor, I was there and let her use it.
That would be mistake #1.
About 3 weeks later, she knocked on the door and said that she left the key in the mower. I just blinked at her.
“Oh, your husband said that I could just use your mower to cut the grass as long as we put gas in it.”
Uh. I was like, very unhappy with my spouse n’ stuff.
He said that he felt backed into a corner and that if they mowed a big portion of our backyard and paid for the gas, what was the harm. What was the harm?? Uh, try that he doesn’t have to deal with her and him and crap about the lawn and the lawn mower all.the.freaking.time!!!
See, the thing is, I like cutting my lawn. I love riding around like Forrest Gump on my riding lawnmower. It makes me happy. It makes me feel accomplished to cut my massive expanse of lawn into a orderly pattern (Ok, it isn’t THAT orderly, this is me we are talking about. It’s orderly enough, OK? Geesh!). I like the warm seat and the vibrations feel good on my lower back. It is a chore that I like to do.
What I don’t like is getting bitched at about moving my trampoline/swing set/picnic table when SHE wants to mow the lawn. It drives me freaking nutso. I am also pissed off because I feel Jon got us into the situation, he should get us OUT OF IT. Not me. I have to deal with them all the time as it is, I do not need this aggrevation.
Today, as I was struggling to re-texture and paint my bathroom (Finally), she came to my door. I was sweaty, smelly and covered head to toe in bareback beige paint and splattered with texture paste. She started going off about my mower: “When will it be done?” “Well, the yard looks pretty bad.” “I’m sorry to bother you, but my husband really wants our lawn mowed because it saves us $40 off our rent” and blah, blah, blah.
I told her it was at the mechanics. I told her the mechanic was doing it as a favor to us. I told her it needed a new carborator and I also told her I had NO FREAKING IDEA WHEN IT WOULD BE DONE. Somehow it still didn’t sink in until I told her that another 4 or 5 times.
She finally left and I went to go stick a fork in my eye.
I want them to decide if they are plowing my house down to put a road through it so that I can move.