My yard is a sea of old dandelions.
It's ridiculous, really, the amount of them in my yard.
When you survey the rest of the neighborhood, the yards are green and lush and weed-free. And then there's my yard.
Yesterday was one of THOSE days. You know the ones ... 15 million meetings ... exhaustion sets in early and leaves you a gigantic mass of skin and blubberiness with a nervous twitch.
We are suppose to get rain from now until the end of time, it seems, according to local meteorologists. So, really, I should have pulled my Big Girl Panties on and just mowed the lawn. But it was 7:30 p.m. when I got home, and I was hungry ... and tired ... and cranky ... and I didn't feel good ... and I was headachy ... and I didn't want to.
So, I ate dinner and sat on the couch, and that's when I noticed that someone had shoved a flyer under the handle of my front door. It was a flyer from SCOTT'S LAWN CARE, and it had a little handwritten note that said I could contact Todd for more information.
I used my context clues to figure out what Todd was really saying, which was: "Geez, lady! Your lawn is a HOT MESS! Call me now before it grows right over the roof of your house, and you and the cat are never heard from again."
Todd offended me. Remember ... I was hungry ... and tired ... and cranky ... and I didn't feel good ... and I was headachy ... so I threw his flyer away. And I sat there ... and I dared the lawn to grow more ... and I decided I would rather deal with it later.
Take that, Todd!