Man, you don't want to see my front yard. The Yard Nazis are very lenient during the monsoons, so I have that going for me. If it wasn't so much work, I'd cut down all my shrubberies and trees and sow the gravel with Round-up, bleach, salt, and the ashes of my enemies. As it is, I'm reactive (or maybe allergic) to half the stuff growing there. You'd think some neighborhood kid with a rake and a hula-hoe would want to make some money, but no, he's inside with the a/c like I am, probably playing video games.
The guy who did my yard last year didn't return my call (probably recognized my name) and I've been reluctant to try some other bunch. Hmm, do I wait until I get the nastygram from the Yard Nazis?
Labels: tis the season