“Tell him ‘nice job with the yard.” Seems like a compliment but it was the snotty text my ex sent me the other day. He believed that someone else had been cleaning the yard. “Him” refers to the man he believes I’m seeing. The “Him” is me.
Normally, I try to shy away from fighting with my ex. This time I could not hold my temper. Not because he wants to know who I’m sleeping with, but because I did the freaking yard work.
I’m no fan of the great outdoors. I don’t like bugs, animal poop, or dirt. The great outdoors for me is my front stoop. My backyard has given me anxiety for months. It was a hot mess. The dog had dug up most of the flowers and plants that came up without any of my help. She had eaten a tree. No joke, she ate a tree. There were disemboweled puppy toys everywhere. It was looking white trash. My ex did say something during my rant that was true. “You doing yard work is just very out of character.” He got that right. Since last year many, many things are out of character for me. I am a single mother. It still doesn’t sound right to me but that is what I am. I own this property. I am in charge of it. I am a grown-up. Holy shit.
I put on my big girl underpants (mainly because they don’t ride up), a pair of garden gloves, and I picked up a rake and went to work. The more I cleaned up the more pissed I got. I have been trying to ask for help when I need it. I had asked a bunch of my male friends for help with this yard. All found excuses not to help me. My blood began to boil. Fuck you guys and the white horses you all rode in on. I was in my yard in this ridiculous outfit with giant underpants on under several layers of clothes and I didn’t need a fucking thing from any of them. This is my house, I said out loud to myself. Mine. I am finally home. I suddenly realized that I really hate yard work. It hurt my back. I had to keep bending over. The dog was freaking out because I was in her space. I was freaking out because it was hard and disgusting. I was dirty and not in the sexy big girl way.
Two hours later my yard was cleaned. I dragged lawn bag after lawn bag out to the curb. I was sweating. I was red faced. I realized that this is another example of what it is to be an adult. I also realized I hate being an adult. Lucky for me I hijacked my neighbors (also recently separated) lawn guy. He does yard clean up as well as mowing. This is what is it is to be an adult. Knowing when to hire out!
Let’s face it. We are all much safer with me indoors.
