February 25, 2011
A Modest Proposal
Yesterday one of my neighbors texted me a command: "Come over and see my back yard."
The minute I received the text, I dropped everything hurried over there as fast as could so I wouldn't miss the rabid dog/naked sunbather that was hanging out on her lawn.
When I got there, I was profoundly disappointed to discover that the only thing in the woman's backyard--besides the yard itself--was the woman.
"Didn't it turn out great?" she asked. Earlier this week, she hired a crew of landscapers to spruce up her yard.
Before I could open my mouth, she shoved her landscaper's business card into my hand.
That's when I knew that my yard was bothering more than just me.
Our house was in foreclosure when we bought it last month and the yard is a mess. We plan to do most of the work ourselves, but we need some help picking out the right kind of sod and bushes and trees for our property.
Frank lives across the street and is a retired landscape architect from New Jersey. He has helped most of the people in our subdivision with their yards. Unfortunately, he isn't taking new clients. I have done everything I can think of to make Frank like me, including saying positive things about Newark and Trenton. None of these things has made a lick of difference.
The more Frank rejects me, the more certain I am that he is destined to give me access to his contractor's discount at Home Depot.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked past Frank's house very slowly. While wearing shorts.
"That is not helpful to the cause," my husband stated matter-of-factly.
My legs are one shade above albino.