So, after blogging about Dana’s post about being “those” neighbors, I’ve realized we really are “those” neighbors.

I was showing off our swanky new exterior lifestyle areas, or whatever it is you call patios these days, to one of our neighbors. We rounded the corner and encountered the large walnut bookcase Husband and I have had propped up in the yard for weeks.

That’s right, kids, intellectuals don’t put cars on blocks in their yard. They put bookcases on blocks instead.

We’ve been waiting to get rid of the bookcase because it was damaged during construction. Spring is a busy time for our contractors and they just haven’t had a chance to haul it away for us. I’d better keep on top of this though, because time slips by pretty fast and if I don’t make sure it gets taken care of we’ll start ignoring it and the next thing we know the grandnieces will be building a fort on it while we sip our hot toddys on the porch and yell at them to get off the lawn.

Oh, the lawn. The accursed lawn. The lawn is a swatch of hay-covered parched clay because we can’t bring ourselves to shell out for sod yet. I’m sure the yarn gives the neighbors something to talk about now that we’ve made the rest of the place presentable. To be fair, we have very little lawn area left, what with the giant porch and lifestyle accessory zones and the flower and herb gardens. Still, there’s enough to be an eyesore.

Mostly, I ignore the desolate wasteland that is the lawn because I have bigger fish to fry. We had 16 arborvitae planted and until they get established, they need to be watered.

My spiritual advisor, Roger, also planted lots of sunflowers, but those need surprisingly little water. I make every effort to plant as few things that need regular (non-rainfall related) watering as possible.

Aside from the herbs and the trees, the rest of the plants are pretty drought and MeanLouise tolerant. I planted a shasta daisy seedling in 1998. Every year I divide and give away as many of it’s spawn as possible. I started out with that one little shasta daisy. Last month when I started dividing them I found I had 97 of them. These things don’t need full sun or water or, apparently, any attention whatsoever. Shasta daisies, like honey badger, just don’t give a shit.

The trees are another story. This year, they need water, and we haven’t gotten any decent rainfall at our house in a while. According to the local rain gauge we’ve gotten about .10 inch in the last month. That means the trees aren’t the only things that need watering, because some idiot who lives here planted lots of tender herbs. The perennial herbs are troupers. The annuals like basil need water.

That involves hoses.

I have become like Wile E Coyote with the fucking garden hoses.

Dealing with garden hoses is going to break me.

For reasons I cannot even begin to explain – but trust me, there is a logical explanation – this is the hose situation as of today: We have 8 hoses connected to various bibs, winders, soaker hoses, sprinkler hoses, other hoses, and possibly my neighbor’s water feature.

I can’t be sure anymore.

What I can be sure of is that I must be supplying some form of comic relief to the neighborhood when I’m out in the yard swearing and fussing. Some of the neighbors are new, they haven’t acclimated to my tenuous relationship with both earthworms and reality vis-a-vis the wonderful world of gardening. I believe I may be frightening them, but they’ll learn. Or move.

I am simply not designed for this kind of domestic horseshit.

If I have to buy another splitter, connector, washer, winder, holder, nozzle, sprinkler, watering can or divining rod I am going to lose what little is left of my mind.

And now, to take my mind off gardening, let’s all have a moment with honey badger: