I have to tell you about Water Week, and I will, but first I want to tell you about Thursday. Remember that Thursday was the day that I canceled a Camp Stimey Meet-up so that my family could do something fun together? And I was sad that Jack couldn’t participate?
Well, count Jack lucky.
Let me fill you in on the things I do not like about gardening: Dirt. Bugs. Sweat. Dirt. Also dirt.
If I had to list the things in this world that I do not like, gardening would be right at the top of the list, near Brussels sprouts.
Alex insisted that Sam, Quinn, and I help him clear out our front yard of weeds, which, yes, badly needed to be done, but when I arrived at the side of the house with a smile and a camera, Alex informed me in no uncertain terms that if all I was going to do was take photos then I was not welcome and that my not being welcome was NOT an option.
I grudgingly picked up some clippers and went around to the side of the house that interested me and began to clip branches away from our DirecTV dish. But, nooooo, that vast improvement to our lives was not enough for Mr. I Don’t Want To Be Embarrassed By My House.
I then clipped away the shrubs that hindered access to our front porch, thus letting us see when we pull into the driveway if we have mail sitting on our porch. Alex was still not impressed by my sense of priorities.
Worse still, he wanted me to pick up the clippings that I’d dropped on our front walk and even gave me his gloves so that I could pick up the prickly bits. I refer you to my Hate Gardening List before I tell you that he’d been sweating inside those gloves.
Meanwhile, Alex was forcing Quinn and Sam to bag up the sticks and leaves that he’d been clearing. They were similarly unhappy. I am a little ashamed to admit just how much I did NOT lead by example.
No, I take that back. I am not ashamed at all. I thought we were going to maybe go for a hike or a picnic or something fun. Hating rain (Water Week!) for making our weeds grow was not on my agenda.
Not to mention that I did not care for the caliber of bugs that our weeding uncovered and which I am convinced are still nesting in my hair and ears.
Alex seems to think that doing the brunt of the hard labor excuses him from any guilt in this whole endeavor. HE seems to think that weeding once every three years is not enough.
Thank God Jack had to be picked up from camp, so we had a solid end time. Our day was capped off when we headed out to dinner at a place we’d chosen because it was right next door to the pet store where they do shark feeding on Thursday nights only to see that the pet store had been replaced by some sort of medical clinic.
Gardening and no sharks. Why does everything terrible have to happen to me?