As I typed today's date, I realized that it's my father's birthday. He would have been over 100 years old, if he had lived this long. He is one of the reasons why neither of my sons are afraid to fix anything that breaks. He is also one of the reasons why they can rattle off some world-class cussin' while they work. ;)
I rattled off a few nasties, myself, yesterday.
The first thing yesterday morning, a technician showed up at our door to do routine maintenance on our air-conditioning system. I'd known for a month - but had forgotten - that he was coming, and I'd planned to get an early start on re-planting the peas in the community garden. It was pushing 10:00 by the time the dude left, and it was already hot.
The peas in the community garden looked better than I expected, considering all the rain. And they'd come up better than I remembered, so there wasn't much re-planting to do. However, the keepers of the garden plot next to mine aren't all that fastidious about weeding, and bermuda grass and assorted weeds had crept across the walkway into my plot (as had their squash vines). I spent 30 minutes or so weeding, and called it quits.
While I was out of the house, I dropped by the garden center (for the marigolds I forgot last week) and the grocery store. It was about noon by the time headed home. On the way, I decided that I would drop the marigolds off in our vegetable garden before coming home to put away the perishables. This was a mistake.
Nanny came out of the house before I made it to the garden with the flat of marigolds. She immediately started complaining that it was too hot for me to be in the garden. I told her that I did not intend to work in the garden until later in the day (which was true), but that I was coming back to mow her yard after I put away my groceries and ate a bite of lunch. While I was there, I checked the ground where the peas need re-planting to see if it was dry enough, and I checked the tomato plants for worms (found two fatties and offed them). On the way through the garden, I found my favorite garden tool, abandoned among the rows after my last garden work, and I used it to dig up a monstrous clump of crabgrass in the squash row. The minute Nanny saw me pull up a blade of grass, she started pulling up grass, squawking the whole time, "It's too hot!"
I wanted to tell her, "Then take your ass back in the house!"
But I didn't. I left, after telling her I'd be back later to mow. She started the "too hot" routine again, but I over-ruled her. The grass was tall; I could hear millions of chiggers murmuring, "Get her." I wanted that grass mowed so we didn't have to wade through it on the way to the garden. She said she'd go to get gas for the mower. I told her we had gas, and I'd bring it when I came back.
She was unloading a gas can from her van by the time I went back to mow an hour later. As I filled up the lawnmower gas tank, she said it was too hot to mow.
It's a riding lawnmower. Much of the yard is shady. I had on my big hat. It was not too hot to mow, nevertheless, she came outside at least three times to ask if I wanted water (I told her the first time that I'd brought water and showed her the cup in the lawnmower's cup holder). Each time, I had to stop, and turn off the lawnmower, and hope it would crank again.
The next time she came out again to tell me it was too hot, I said to myself, "F this." By this time, I'd mowed everything except the long, slightly dangerous strip between Nanny's driveway and the field. I said to Nanny, "I'm quitting. Your son will finish the job tomorrow." I was on my way back to the shop with the lawnmower when I spied a square of grass in front of the shop that I had not finished mowing. It would only take a couple of passes to knock it out. I'd started the second pass when the lawnmower hit something hidden in the tall grass. A metal mole trap. It got hung in the blades, and we could not get it out.
Nanny was hovering, lifting the lawnmower flap, looking under it. She started crying. It was her fault (everything is her fault, you see), and she wished she could do the yardwork herself instead of her kids having to do it, yada, yada.
It was more than I could stand.
I left the lawnmower where it was, came home, showered, drank some water on the back porch, tried to calm down and recalculate my gardening plans. Nanny had irritated the shit out of me from the get-go. There was no way I would set foot in the garden again that day for fear of actually saying some of the stuff I was thinking.
The Husband had a meeting after work, and so I did not cook dinner. Instead, I dragged out the weed-eater-on-wheels, gassed it up, did a little weed-eating around the flower beds and such, nullifying the shower I'd just had. I dreaded telling The Husband that I'd f'd up the lawnmower (AGAIN). He took it well. ("You can just buy me another one." I said ok.) ;)
I ought to be in the garden right now, re-planting the peas, but I'm daresome to set foot in Nanny's yard. When The Husband comes home from work today, we'll go over there together; he can work on the lawnmower while I plant peas, and Nanny will "help" him instead of me. ;)
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