Landscaping and its associated physical labor and sweat are, to be perfectly frank, not things that blow my skirt up. I’m happy when Hubby takes down the Christmas lights by late January (February if he’s really pushing it) and that the grass isn’t tall enough in the summertime to hide slithering critters like children or snakes. We have, thanks to Hubby’s hard work and militant anti-weed campaign, what our HGTV-watching
junkie daughter calls curb appeal.
Despite the heat, the grass isn’t totally dead, just a little…crunchy…and the shrubs, hardy devils that they are, are as green as ever. True, they’ve endured some hardship due to various septic tank/AC/neighborhood tom cat issues, but they’re doing alright. So, I was a bit surprised when Hubby said late last week that he’d be having someone come out to remove certain portions of the shrubbery, specifically those on the sides and back of the house. Oh-kay.
This is what greeted me when I got home yesterday…notice, this isn’t the side or back of the house.
Please imagine lush green vegetation while I observe a moment of silence…
This is the landscaping equivalent of a bikini wax gone horribly wrong!
I maintained my calm, yes I did, thank you sweet Jesus! I knew when I asked, no begged, Him for an arm around my shoulder and a hand over my mouth, He’d know what I really meant was to put me in a choke-hold until my unholy (and illegal) urges passed. I did not slam the front door, kick the dog or rip Hubby’s head from his neck. I merely clenched my jaw, smiled that smile that quells backtalk and sends the dog to cowering on her beddy-bye and said ‘I’m fine’ in response to his ‘How was your day, dear?’ and judging from his deer-in-the-headlights look, scared the begeebers out of him with my frightful display of calm. This also works well when he wakes me from a sound sleep for things other than fire and blood loss.
NOTE TO SELF: Never leave offspring and now, the spouse, unattended. Sigh…