Let’s start off with the yard. As I left for work yesterday, it was tall. Really tall. Lose small dogs in your front lawn tall. So the plan was to race home from work—maybe even a little early—and tame the beast, especially given that rain is forecast off and on for the next couple of days.
But fate intervened. Due to a great deal of carelessness on someone else’s part, I ended having to put in another six hours after “normal” (whatever that means) working hours to get things ready for a trade show that starts today. Meaning no cutting of the grass. Meaning more growing of the grass. Meaning I was living in fear of how tall the grass would be when I could eventually get to it later this week.
So I get home yesterday evening, ready to put in those six extra hours from home (remote access to work rules), to discover that my wife—knowing that it was turning into One Of Those Days—made the ultimate gesture on my behalf.
She mowed the lawn.
I don’t think you understand just how much she dislikes mowing the lawn. (That’s part of our deal—I take care of the outside of the house, she takes care of the inside. Believe me, it’s a win-win proposition…) But when I pulled up in the driveway, there was the back lawn… cut. The front lawn… cut. The side strip between us and the neighbors… mostly cut. And there she was—sweaty and exhausted, pushing the mower those last few feet to finish off the strip.
She did it. Not because I asked her to (I didn’t). Not because she actually wanted to (I’m pretty certain it wouldn’t have been too high on her list). But just… because. Because it was growing past our ankles. Because it was going to rain today. Because she knew that I had been desperately planning to do it myself after work before the after-hours assignment came up.
Because she loves me.
Yep, love is strange. But I love this woman. I love her, I love her, I love her.
And yes, I guess that means I’ve got toilet cleaning duty for the next month or so… :-)