The Sanford and Son of the Neighborhood
The weed situation in our driveway is completely out of control. Seeing it everyday brings me such shame. The other day I got a ride home from church and I wanted to ask them to drop me off a few houses away from my house so they wouldn’t see me walk up my weed infested driveway.
Imagine me walking up it with my head down in shame. To make matters worse our neighbors’ parents have been out in their driveway for two days now weeding and mulching and planting. If I were my father I’d say something like, “When you’re finished there you can come over and take care of mine.” Then I’d laugh a big hearty laugh, but I’m not my father. Instead, I say nothing as I walk embarrassed to the door. I wish my parents would come weed my driveway, but that would be an expensive trip and I could only afford to offer them a free meal in exchange for their labor. Normally if they come to my house I make them pay for their food.
I could weed the driveway. I’ve tried but there are just too many weeds. England is way too lush. The weeds just keep growing and growing. What do they think this is fertile soil with a few random stones scattered about or something?
I don’t want to buy weed killer because it seems dangerous to me. Our upstairs neighbors’ young children are in our driveway sometimes and lots of dogs come sniffing around our driveway daily. My natural weed killing attempts last year left me filling annoyed and frustrated. My husbands thinks we should just buy a weed wacker. I guess that’s an idea.
Until we buy that weed wacker, we’ll just have to be the Sanford and Son of the neighborhood. I know they had a junkyard and not a weedy driveway, but every time I look outside the living room window the Sanford and Son theme song goes through my head.
