The Yard

The rake and not the trough...for the time being anyway

Note: I could have made that rhyme, be glad I didn't

Day 1, Part 1

I woke up this morning, drank Earl Gray and ate waffles with sugar-free syrup. The day was almost half

over and I still had to do so much before its conclusion...whenever that was. Take Shirin and her friend to lunch where ever they chose, rake the yard of all the dead grass, do my taxes, go to my endocrinologist for an appointment, and attend a Knuckleduster practice. It was quite a full day -- not really -- and I seemed ok with that.

The grass in our front yard has been under attack by some kind of grub for a few years and I remember,

sometime ago, my father and I having to tear up much of the grass, stray a kind of poison down to kill the little things and cover the dirt spots with sod. He told me that once we killed them they were dead. No more grubs. Well, they're back. Not as bad this time, I should add. There only being about two spots of deadness in the enter one side of the front yard. I want the grubs to go away. My dad can't keep taking care of them. Killing them whenever they come back to gnarl up the yard. He had a bad shoulder -- coupled with his bad rest of his body -- and couldn't attend to "repetitive and strenuous activities". That was fine by me. It was better to have him complaining to me about how I still needed to rake then about how much pain he was in and why his kids couldn't help out more. So, I took to the grass with a kind of gusto that just wanted to kill the little buggers. This way, if they're dead, I won't have to come back home so often to tend to the yard and other feats of shoulder pivoting action. Wouldn't bother me to come home however. I love my family, they're fun, and I'm sure living in an apartment would get annoying after a while anyway and I would pine for the times where I would cut the grass or help my father drill four holes with a two-person, gas powered auger.