You heard me right.

YARD WORK.

Which, apparently, involves more than just picking up the beer bottles and making sure the lawn guys have a clear path to the weeds grass that needs mowing (which, let’s not even get into the irony that I pay a lawn guy so that I can spend MY Sunday up to my nipples in leaves and pine cones, MEH).

It may have involved a trip to Home Depot for IMPLEMENTS and TOOLS.

And, can I just say, if you’re going to get into a fight with your husband in a store, please choose a store that doesn’t have axes and hatchets at arms reach.  FORTHELOVEOFGOD, they need to keep those things behind glass, don’t you think? Tensions can run high here, people!!

So, we got our rakes and hedge clippers and set off for home.

On a normal day, just shopping for the right tools would be enough effort to chalk up the day as a win.  Thus, the reason I own a bread maker, TWO brooms and about eighty bottles of Pledge.

But NO. My husband decided that actual work was going to be required.

*shudder*

So, like any good parent, I decided to use my kids as cheap day labor and got THEM rakes too.

We raked…we piled…we trimmed hedges…we bagged…we SWEATED.

It sucked.

And my arms sort of hurt.

I’m typing this with my tongue, as a matter of fact.

And then? We quit to go see a movie.

Leaving the lawn looking like THIS:

Aiming Low: It really is a family effort.

I did not get the Dooce treatment on this one…I had to just suck it up and wait for a repairman to decide that I was worth his, OBVIOUSLY, precious time…seven days after the actual breakdown.

Seven days with no refrigeration, no ice maker, no smooth, milky cream to make my morning coffee lovely and delicious.

Travesty. I know.

So, let’s suffice it to say that by the time Javier finally rang my doorbell I was beyond the irritation of having to wait a WEEK for the fridge to be fixed and just thankful for someone, ANYONE, who might be able to bring me back the goodness that is a cup of cold yogurt.

I sat happily as Javier worked his repairman magic…dreaming of the moment when I would be basking in the glow of my frosty appliance goodness.

He finally said the sexy words I’d been waiting to hear, “I’m DONE!” {Yeah, I occasionally find those words sexy…depends on how tired I am and how NOT in the mood.  Let’s just let that one go}

And let the rejoicing begin!

Until Javier came out, wiping his hands and frowning.

“Mrs. Mayhew? You may want to just go ahead and clean back there before I put the refrigerator back.”

Um. Excuse me?

Did you just tell me to clean?

Or you won’t move my fridge back?

Are you kidding me?

Then I looked.

And grumbled all the way to the closet where I keep the broom.

I carefully swept behind the fridge and said in my best “scathing sarcasm” voice, “I’m DOOOONE.”

Javier actually LOOKED to CHECK before he put my fridge back where it belonged….which, in MY opinion, is covering the dirt that lives there.

Then he left.

Probably smirking that he got me to clean up the mess.

Whatever.

It wasn’t THAT bad.

Um. Right?