A Beautiful Day Makes a Beautiful Yard... (maybe)

Ahhhhh... the sun is shining! At last! The warm air has arrived. I couldn't be happier. I almost feel like I could head outside and mow the lawn. Almost, but not quite. It doesn't matter though because my body feels nice and warm for the first time in weeks. I'm truly grateful. I might even dance (but probably not).

This weekend promises to be perfect. Mid-70s and sunny. In short, gorgeous. So, FINALLY the big task has become MULCH the YARD. KILL the WEEDS. MAKE the yard BEE-YOOTiful. Really exciting stuff...but it will look good when it's done. There are 50 bags of mulch stacked up next to my house waiting patiently to be laid out. They've been there for more than month. With any luck, they will have killed the grass underneath them so I can make a new plant bed. I'm dreaming of peonies and lilacs and other beautiful flowers that I'm sure I'll kill within a week. But a girl can dream, right?

I just can't wait to get at it...mainly because I won't be the one who has to get the get-go going. If you think I've mowed a lawn in the last 15 years, you're crazy. I'm not even sure I know how to turn one on. That's how bad it is. If you think I am capable of dragging a 3 cubic foot bag of mulch across a yard, think again. Okay, maybe one, but no more. However, I must admit I'm a mean hand at killing those weeds. Squeeze, spray. Squeeze, spray. Spurge, clover, dandelions... tremble in fear. I'm on my way out... Hey, it helps, right?... Right?... Hello? Okay, fine, maybe not...

There comes a time in every housewife's life when getting the job done means delegation. If that means hubby humps the mulch bag, then great. Or if writing a check gets your lawn mowed, even better. I'm not ashamed to admit that while I'll do anything around the house, around the house is not my forte.

Here's rule number 2 in the Guide:

Housewives manage the house, but under no circumstances should they be expected to do everything. Delegate, delegate.

We must protect our manicures along with our offspring, right?

Who knows though? I just might mow that lawn anyway. What the heck?