This One Is Gonna Hurt

Stuff like this makes me question my sanity. I mean, is this really gonna make my life simpler? Because, I’d beg to differ. I think this is going to make our lives decidedly more difficult.

But, it’s part of the project we set up for ourselves. So, we did it. And will do it. And will live to write about it.

The lawn guy got the boot this week.

I’m dreading this. Because I know I’m going to end up nagging Stephen to mow the lawn. The almost half an acre lawn. Which isn’t fun for anyone. The kids are too young to mow, but not too young to help. So I guess there’s that. I have never mowed a lawn in my life and, honestly, my back prevents me from doing so anyway. So, this one lies squarely on Stephen’s shoulders.

This afternoon this was my internal dialogue, which demonstrates how desperate I feel about it:

Entitled Me: I can’t believe we got rid of the lawn service.

Simple Year Me: But it’s part of the project.

Entitled Me: Yeah, but it’s not fun. It’s more work.

Simple Year Me: *insert crickets chirping*

Entitled Me: What if we cut down to twice a month instead of every week? That’s still be downsizing, right?

Simple Year Me: Don’t be a baby. Just do it.

Entitled Me: I’m not a Nike slogan.

Simple Year Me: Shut up and grow a pair.

Entitled Me: I’m whining.

Simple Year Me: You are.

Entitled Me: Damn.

Simple Year Me: It’s your own fault. You signed up for this project.

We did sign up for this project. And this is part of it. And it stinks. But, I’ve decided, I have no right to complain about it. Stephen can complain about it, but not me.