My Kind of Yardwork

There's absolutely no question about it: I loathe yardwork. I realize there are people who turn their yards into hobbies, lovingly fertilizing, mowing, raking, mulching, pruning, planting, and watering. That sounds like at least the Fourth Circle of Hell to me. I also realize there are people who do this because it is on The List that their wives make for them every weekend, and even that doesn't sound a whole lot better to me. Luckily for me, my new place is a condo/apartment and thus has no yard. My last place was the same. That was a Good Thing. The place before, where I lived for 6 years, had postage stamp front yard and a vine-covered forest floor out back. There was very little to do. The tiny yard had to be mowed, but it only took 20 minutes. The leaves had to be raked once in a great while. The bushes could be trimmed from time to time. But I still bitched every time I had to do it. Hated every second of it. I only trimmed those bushes twice in 6 years, and I didn't even attempt to fight back the vines from encroaching on the walkway behind the house once. I just didn't go back there, and neither did my roommates. I often thought that a concrete slab would be far more useful out front than a yard. That way, I could put up a couple of basketball hoops, and yardwork would become fun. I know, I probably have some sickness, and I'm willing to admit it. However, I'm apparently not the only one who has no practical use for yardwork. The real beauty of it is that she's way funnier than I am. I hope you enjoy it. I sure did.