Tuesday, 2 August 2016

Green, green grass of home...

You will expect me to be telling you that the husband didn't surface until late on Sunday after the mammoth night out on Saturday.  However, quite surprisingly, he headed downstairs at a reasonable time (when I say reasonable, I mean a morning time still in single digits) and wandered out to the garden with a strong coffee and a bacon sandwich.

Thinking he looked almost human (he was wearing sunglasses so the full red-eye effect wasn't apparent at that point) I asked him if he could mow the lawn when he was finished.  The buttercups and dandelions were now so long that the dogs had gone missing on a couple of occasions, and I could no longer reach my wooden bench without using a scythe.  He didn't say a word, but simply heaved himself out of his chair and headed off to the garage with a long sigh. 

I had planting to do, so started on the borders, ably assisted by Reg and Percy, whose main love in life is flowerpots (full or empty).  While I wasn't looking, they managed to decimate a tray of petunias which will probably never see the sun again, and I also have a passionflower on life support as we speak.  They also took great delight in moving my pile of weeds to various places around the lawn, having first given them a good old shake, splattering soil all over me and the lawn.

So in between flower pot wrestling with miniature schnauzers and frequently losing, I could hear the lawnmower out the front, and it wasn't too long before the husband appeared in the back garden.  I'll say this for him, he is a safety boy, and never takes risks.  Wearing goggles, ear defenders and a hi-vis t-shirt he gestured for me to get out the way so he could mow the lawn.

Two and a half hours later, we were done, and the garden looked lovely.  The two of us then slumped into the deckchairs and slept in the sunshine.  I say sunshine, but who am I kidding?  I had a sweater on, and the husband went indoors after half an hour when his chattering teeth began to cross over into noise pollution.  I hung in there though.  I mean, after all that hard work, you want to be able to admire the fruits of your labours don't you?

When I came back indoors around 5.00, the husband was nowhere to be seen.  I wandered from room to room, even checking the garage, before I found him in bed fast asleep. And that was where he stayed till 8.00pm, surfacing for about an hour before heading off to bed again.

It would appear that the goggles and sunglasses had disguised the extent of his hangover rather well.  I can see now that the ear defenders had a dual purpose.  Firstly, to stop the noisy lawnmower making his banging headache even worse than it was, and secondly, he wouldn't be able to hear me if I asked for any more jobs to be done.

Just as well I was incapable of anything more than some light weeding and planting on Sunday though, as I have a list as long as your arm of 'Blue Jobs' which need doing.

Maybe next weekend I can keep him off the wine and me off the dancefloor...
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