my new enemy

It has become a bit of an obsession.

It's not something that I need to do. I don't own the damn house. Just mow whatever comes up and let it die in the summer is the usual method for keeping a lawn here in Oregon- anything else is insanity. And yet here I am, picking out the dandelions one by one with a pair of gloves and a little pokey thing. Why? I've spent hours and barely made a dent. Our greenwaste bin is overflowing- there isn't even anywhere to put them anymore I just keep pulling them out one by one and stacking them in a pile while my back and hands start cramping.

But here's the thing; it's so tangible. There is something wrong, I can see it, I can grab it with my hands, and with a stab and a yank the problem is over. There isn't a noise from the carcass hitting the bucket but there is satisfaction supplied by the increase in volume. Sure it might leave little crater in the lawn but I'm convinced the grass will fill it back in eventually. And I have spent hours and it will continue to take hours but it is possible to accomplish. But it's not so bad. I put on my headphones and listen to a story from a far gone era. I have a beer and some sunshine and the soft grass beneath my knees. I can wave to a neighbor or try to identify a new bug or fool myself into thinking that this is somehow good for my abs. There are worse ways I could spend my time.

So if you drive by and see me poking around the same three feet of grass for an hour with a little stabby garden tool, just know that I'm enjoying myself and maybe working out some frustration. Please intervene if you catch me using one of those hand crank dealies for watering and seeding your lawn at the same time. That's a slippery slope to waxing my car and researching time shares and I'm really not ready for that stage of life yet. Just put on some cartoons and hand me a juicebox and I'll be right as rain in a few hours. Grown up stuff. Bleh. No, thank you.