It's tiresome. Especially if that's all you know. (In fact, once I finish this post, I'm going to sweep for the second time today.)
It's even more so tiresome if in between sweepings, you're looking for jobs. Going on job interviews to no avail. It has been exhausting mentally and emotionally. From being told "Congratulations, welcome to our company. We're happy to have you aboard. We'll call you and set up your schedule," and then even after calling to confirm, no contact after that. Did the hiring manager accidentally get her fingers shut in a car door and can't dial the phone ever again? Receiving the dreaded "We're sorry, you're just not the right fit for us," email. Or the worst of them all...radio silence.
In all this hustle and bustle...I would periodically check to see if maybe...just maybe....the grass had started growing. It hadn't. How could it? If I watered it, the dogs would track heaps and mounds of mud into the house. If I don't water it, it won't grow. It wasn't growing. The automatic sprinklers don't reach that area.
And then...it happened again, in the midst of all of this crazy. Two positive pregnancy tests. Then the rain came. Raining cats and dogs, if you will. And the tests stopped being positive like they have for the 4th time this year. So in a sense, it was raining outside and inside.
In the process of all this rain, the dogs needed to go out front where the sod was laid down. 3 dogs being shuffled outside, multiple times a day. The weeds got so tall out back that in the mornings, I'd watch birds land on them. It was so thick that once the dogs were out there, you could only see patches of brown and black through the dense greenery. Occasionally a dog face would pop up and smell the air. The floor was going to need to be mopped anyways...why not let them out and back in to make a mess? They're happier when they're running around the mud like animals.
After another failed job interview (at a coffee shop of all places, where the owner was overly concerned about the fact that I'm a military spouse, I move around a lot and I'm "not a real barista" as he put it), the rain had let up and I decided to mow down the 3 foot tall weeds. Something to make me feel better and like I had actually accomplished something for the day. A scorpion in my boot had other plans for me. Insult to injury, I suppose. And because that scorpion one upped me, I spent the day with a tingly arm and a tingly tongue. Is that normal? I did not do the yard work I wanted.
This week has actually been somewhat of a mess. I can't remember on which day I was laid up with a migraine or what day of the week it is. Well, except I know it's Friday. That much I do know, but only because that's what it says on my phone. While watching the boonie dogs frolic in their jungle like habitat, I decided it was time. I was going to cut down those weeds. With sheer determination, I grabbed the lawn mower and guided it through the house, being careful not to run into any doors or scrape any walls. The idiots that installed our fence didn't add a gate because they didn't think about it until the fence was up. (Spoiler alert: it was us.)
The lawn got mowed...and Zach and I decided to do a bit more yard work. He ran the weed eater and I chopped down some trees with a dull machete. (Another spoiler alert: I don't recommend this method and I'm pretty sure husbands with clumsy, accident prone wives will also not recommend this method either.)
Then something wonderful happened. Zach called me over with the tone of utmost importance in his voice.
"Look!!! The grass has finally started growing!"
And sure enough, it had. Little tufts of baby grass sprouting up through the mud.
I secretly tried to pretend that the tears were actually sweat because what kind of person cries over grass? Apparently, I'm that type of person. Especially with everything else going on. All I could muster up was "This makes me so happy, our baby grass is growing" because I was choking back watering eyeballs. Seriously, someone must have been cutting onions outside.
Little tufts of baby grass sprouting all over our yard. Had I mowed the day I was stung, I wouldn't have seen them.
My mother always says "God is going to keep trying to teach you the same lesson until you learn it." Not that I'm an overly religious person, patience is not one of my strong attributes. I am a flawless dancer, have the perfect comedic timing during inappropriate situations where you shouldn't be funny and I can do 90's rap karaoke on the turn of a dime. I'm basically a gift to humanity. It would only seem fitting that maybe little tufts of grass is what it took for me to learn my lesson in being patient.
That and also waiting on a background check to start a new job.
