Weeds? What weeds? Besides, ‘Glee’ is on TV
I recently invited people over to my house by saying, “I’m in the white house with all the weeds. You can’t miss it.”
Imagine a house that had been empty for about a year and a half. A house that sits on one acre. In an agricultural area. Where the city has no jurisdiction to come out with a measuring stick and proclaim said weeds to be 6 1/8 inches tall.
In nearly two years, thousands upon thousands of weeds can grow. And they can grow quickly. And they grow tall.
My husband and I have lived in our new house for about four months. I think that in all that time I have pulled about 10 weeds, because weeding sucks and it’s hot outside. I’m sort of an indoor girl.
At this point, people are working The Weed Situation into conversations.
“Oh!” Someone will say. “So you’re the people who moved there! Isn’t that a nice home! You know, the people who lived there before you really kept their yard pristine.”
And then they will say, “I’m sure you’ll get to it when you can.”
Sometimes the previous owners’ landscaping is described as having been “beautiful,” “gorgeous” and, once, “breathtaking.” That last one came from a woman whose breath I had just taken when I told her all the landscaping was dead. She looked close to tears when I told her the weeds were now waist high.
They must think I’m the kind of girl who cares enough about the weeds to do something about it. I’m not.
I’m the kind of girl who calls a landscaper. But do you know how much landscapers cost?
It’s easier for me to just run over the weeds with my car each time I enter or exit my driveway. Eventually, I will smash them so much that the roots, after putting up a valiant, monthslong feud with my tires, will just give up and say, “Enough. I cannot compete with this Camry.” That’s my kind of weed control.
It makes it worse that our next-door neighbors have a really gorgeous lawn. I suspect their lawn is gorgeous because they actually work on it. I’m pretty sure they spend every spare moment outside tending to their yard. Their grass looks like a velvet carpet, and my feet ache to walk barefoot on it.
A couple of weekends ago, they got up bright and early, went to a nursery, bought trees, came home and planted them in their personal Garden of Eden, all while I was still in bed.
I think our neighbor mows his lawn every other day and twice on Sunday, while I honestly couldn’t tell you where our lawn mower is.
Sometimes, when they leave their house, on what I assume is another trip to buy more Miracle Gro or lawn tools, I see their looks of shame as they glance at my weed garden. They probably really miss their old neighbors.
The weeds are actually so high, I can’t see their yard from my window. I keep watching out my window as I watch re-runs of “Glee,” hoping my neighbor and his lawn mower will just get so fed up with me that he’ll come over and tend to my yard.
I mean, there isn’t much left to do on his own yard, except for having the photo crew from a home and garden magazine come in for a photo shoot of the perfect spectacle that is their lawn. After the photo shoot he should totally have time for my weeds.
I’ll even turn up “Glee” so he can have some music to work to.
I’m nothing if not neighborly.