me and my type A

I really love the house that I’m living in. I finally feel like I’m in a home that “feels” like Mike and I. It’s a 1920’s bungalow that has retained the charm of the era while being updated in the areas that count. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still love to modify the bathroom – which still contains a claw-foot tub – but, alas, it’s not in the plan.

It’s not in the plan because it’s a rental. I’m not big on renting, but Mike and I own two other houses right now and it’s just not possible to have a third mortgage. I spend enough money covering the gray hairs that I get from all the other chaos in my life. I don’t need a third mortgage chasing me like a three-legged monster in my dreams.

Sorry, where was I? Oh, right, it’s a rental. As much as I love this little house, there’s only so much work that I’m willing to do on my dime. Enter, my yard. The front yard is darling – shrub-lined walkways and beautiful flowers – all framing a large front porch that’s perfect for Pinot and neighbor watching.

It’s the backyard that is the bane of my existence. There’s great possibility, due in large part to the massive screened in porch and deck that expands off the back of the house. As you can see from the photo below, the fat cat LOVES the deck and would seriously spend all day everyday out there if I gave him the chance. I’ve added comfy furniture, the bar and a dartboard to the porch, so it’s the PERFECT party spot. My newfound Chattanooga friends have experienced the fun more than once this summer.

The issue is with neither of these things – porch or deck. The issue is the fact that The Blair Witch Project was apparently filmed in my backyard.

The yard is about 50 yards deep. Width doesn’t really matter for the frustration I’m about to share with you. Of this 50 yards, there are four rows of rocks that have started at one end, and been planted in the ground all the way to the other end. Apparently, at one point in the 90 year history of this house, someone had four, long, vertical flower beds in the yard. The issue is this: now those beds are filled with grass and are well suited to be mowed with the rest of the yard. There’s no need for the flower beds to be in those locations and, therefore, they can just be nice extensions to the lawn. The problem they cause with the lawn mower is unacceptable. I can’t mow the grass with any level of ease and I’m annoyed every single time I have to wind my way through the yard, avoiding more areas than I mow.

With approximately 600 feet of rock, I had the bright idea to just dig them up. I figured, if they are just garden edgers, they can’t be that big, right? Well, enter “stupid, overly-aggressive, can’t-get-a-bad-idea-out-of-her-head Golladay”. I started digging a few days ago, thinking that I could get the rocks moved in a matter of hours. Three sessions, one pulled hamstring and several gallons of sweat later, I’m about 1/3 of the way finished. The problem, you ask? How about the fact that each rock is about 12” wide by 12” long and only about 2” of that rock is above the surface? Who uses HUGE stones to line a garden and plants them that far underground?? It sucks, but I can’t stop at this point.

This is what one third of the rocks look like. FML

What does this little exercise in outdoor entertainment teach me? That I’ll NEVER AGAIN let Mike off the hook for a job like this. Yea, SURE you have to be at vet school. SURE you can’t help me with anything remotely labor intensive until May 13. SURE you “wish” you could do some of the heavy lifting. Ladies – if your husbands ever tell you that they have finally decided what career they want to pursue – say a quick “no.” Encourage them to live out their midlife crisis through a sports car or hair implants.