Phooey

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I’ve got one word to say about yard work. Phooey. Well, I’ve got a few hundred more words about the subject, but it all boils down to that one. I thought about using bah humbug, but don’t want to be sued by Scrooge. Again I say Phooey. Just hearing the phrase ‘yard work’ makes me shudder. I mean, doesn’t it sound like busting rocks in a prison? I never was too fond of the word ‘work’ anyway, but now I’m suppose to go outside and do it? Egads, who came up with this special hell in the first place? I know, let’s blame Adam. In Genesis 3:18 God told him that his punishment for eating the forbidden fruit was that he would have to do yard work. That verse has the words ‘sweat,’ ‘ground’ and ‘dust’ in it. Yeah, thanks, Adam. I think I would have told Eve “Nah, you go ahead and eat it. I’m too busy naming these creatures. Thanks, anyway.”

Yard work is always hard. It involves being outside where the sun beats down constantly. I tried doing yard work at night once. I believe that’s how crop circles are made. The sun is a formidable thing that should be avoided. You can’t even look at it, for goodness sake! I just can’t trust something that won’t let me check it out. It’s HOT, too. Who wants to clean the oven when it’s 400 degrees?  The sun is way hotter than that, even. That’s why God made shade, so we could keep out of the sun. Some people like to go outside and expose their skin to the sun on purpose, too. There must be a shortage of leather products and skin cancer somewhere. I believe I’ll stay inside and watch.

In addition to the sun, you’ve got to put up with all those squirrels and birds making fun of you while you’re groveling around in the yard. I hate a smart-aleck robin. Note that while you’re getting fried like bacon, the wild critters are hanging out in the coolness of trees. I wouldn’t mind yard work so much if I could sit up in an oak chillin’ with my home wrens. It’s downright degrading crawling on your hands and knees in front of a tree full of worm and nut eaters. That’s not the worst part. Yard work demands you get down on the ground. Have you seen all the BUGS living in your yard? If I knew any entomologists I’d ask them to come over and do my yard work for me. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too crazy about rolling around the dirt and grass with a gazillion insects crawling all over me. I don’t even know what most of them are! To be fair, some species spot a human digging around their home and they’re gone without even packing. Those I don’t mind. I could even respect them if it weren’t for the fact that they’re bugs. Ants, though, are about the rudest insects around. They’ve got no problem going over you instead of making a detour. Every time I’m forced to do yard work it takes days just to find all the ants skittering around on me. Let me tell you this: they love warm, moist places. I wouldn’t be surprised if I still have a few ants under my – well, let’s keep it clean, ok? And then there are spiders, the eight-legged freaks of the underworld. Don’t get me started on spiders. Whenever I see one I instantly turn into a six year old girl and run away shrieking at the top of my lungs. It’s so humiliating.

The worst thing about yard work, though, is what you have to DO. Why in the world do we have to have grass to begin with? It grows like crazy and we have to keep trimming it like some sort of industrial barber. Lawn mowers are loud, smelly, and they’ve got one thing I try to avoid at all cost: a sharp blade whirling around just inches from my ankles. I’m always having to look ahead for rocks when I mow. Hit one and you can bet it will find a window, even if it’s miles away. I thought about moving to the desert just to get away from grass, but who wants to mow sand? Yard work isn’t satisfied with just cutting grass. It demands that you trim bushes, edge walkways and sidewalks, pull weeds and wrestle with whatever it is growing in your yard. It is no fun keeping a prickly pear cactus patch weed-free. I may never get all those miniscule spines out of me. I was told once that the best thing to extract those prickers is with glue. I tried it but couldn’t get out of my chair for a month. The squirrels had a good laugh over that one.

You hear people all the time saying “Oh, I LOVE yard work!” I think there’s a clinical name for that in the DSM-5. Great. If you love yard work that much, come on over and wallow in mine. Oh, well, you must not love it that much, huh? If it weren’t for my wife, my yard would be at one with nature. Except for spiders. They have to die.

Yard work? Phooey, I say.

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