Ahh, Friday evening. That special night of the week when you can stay up a little bit later, indulge in a late night movie. You smile as you turn out the light, not bothering to set that nasty alarm. Tomorrow is Saturday! Sure, I have kids and things I want and need to do, so I won’t be sleeping in until noon, but I love knowing that I could if I wanted to. Sleeping in is so luxurious. So, this morning, I’m lying there, all wrapped up in my cozy blanket when I hear this distant sound. At first, I thought, it’s just a car…go back to sleep, then it continued, persistent and annoying, kind of like an ALARM. So, of course, here I am, unable to even force myself back to sleep, so I just give up and get up. It was exactly 8AM; not 7:59, not 8:01. It’s like the person stood in the back yard, visions of a race start stop light in their vision, the seconds ticking down to, “GENTLEMEN, START….YOUR….ENGINES!!!” and sleep be damned for everyone! I must go! My lawn needs me!
Of course, my first thought was to Rage Against the Machine and rush outside like a madwoman, 80’s hair metal band-like hair, no makeup, fuzzy slippers and my favorite “I’m a Night Owl!” sleep shirt on and go over there and give him a piece of my mind. Then, I awake from that very satisfying daydream and go brush my teeth. No fighting the suburban religion of mowing the grass, and trimming and bagging and mulching and…good grief. My dream is to live somewhere that it’s acceptable to have a field that I can just buy goats and have them eat the lawn. For now, I will sit here and have my coffee and smell the chemicals from the heavily treated lawns. Maybe later I’ll take a walk and count the pesticide sticks poking out of every perfect lawn. Yes, I live in one of those neighborhoods where people mow exact patterns into their grass and pay landscapers to mow every week (whether it needs it or not) for $50 a week. I’ll take dandelions and dinner at Red Lobster instead for $50 Alex. In the meantime, good morning.