Just a little background. There's are reasons that I don't normally help with yard work. First, I live with three boys. Well, now it's two. Actually, it's one and a half (Will's never home anymore!). But still, you get the point. Second, it's hard work. Not that I'm opposed to hard work, it's just hard PHYSICAL work. I'm not as strong as the previously mentioned boys. I mean, I can heave ho a bale of pine straw, but bags of mulch are another story. And lastly, I'm not very good at it. I run over stuff with the mower, have less than a green thumb and I'm scared that things may jump out from under the deck when I'm not looking. And by things, I mean chipmunks, a stray cat, a coyote or a pack of flying monkeys. So you get the idea, I don't do yard work.
But today, I felt bad. Hunter's not home anymore and Will hasn't been home for four weekends. Our time to "git r done" is getting short and I wanted to make sure that we got it done before it did us in.
The plan: Jeff would work in the front yard and I would work in back - if we work together, we get nothing done. So Jeff grabbed the kill everything spray and I grabbed my gloves, the hedge trimmers, my ipod and my sunglasses. I was ready. Loud music, sunshine and a personal goal of getting a "job well done" from Jeff.
Two hours later, I was coming to the end of my job. I had managed to avoid stray cats and wild monkeys, entertained the neighbors with my singing and actually pulled every weed in sight. I only had two feet of the bed and three plants left to work on. I was almost done.
At this point, I know you're wondering where the funny part is. So here you go.
As I am clipping away, trimming the last plants, I thought I should clean up after myself. So I reach down to get the pile of clippings that I had diligently trimmed from the ornamental grasses when I realize the pile is much larger than the one I made. Oh well, no worries, I'll just clean it all up. As I pick up the pile.....it begins to MOVE. Yes, move. And I don't mean the winds blowing it. I mean a pig is caught in a sack kind of move. I dropped it, threw the tools I had in my hand and ran screaming for Jeff through the yard. I'm sure the neighbors got a huge laugh of out if. I screamed and ran, ran and screamed. That pile had a wild monkey or a mountain lion in it....and it wanted out!
Fast forward to Jeff rescuing me and calming me down. Here's the "pile" I accidently picked up. (It was covered with A LOT more grass when I grabbed it!) It was a rabbits nest. Cute little baby bunnies, more scared of me than I was of them (ok, so not really!). The drop didn't hurt them, my screaming didn't deafen them and they appear to be ok. Me? My heart is still pounding and I can still hear my own screaming in my ears.
So where does this leave us? It isn't obvious? We need to have more kids because I'm done with yard work!
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