When my ex-wife and I moved into our house (which I still live in), I was, like many middle class suburbanites, all about ~ yard work ~ It mattered to me that the lawn was mowed. I would admire my handiwork on a hot summer's day, willing myself to believe this life was the one I wanted. My ex-wife bought shrubs and trees that I dutifully planted at her direction. I pulled weeds. I fertilized. I seeded. The whole Home Depot wet dream.
Now that my ex-wife is gone and I am nearing 50, I am SO NOT ABOUT YARD WORK anymore. Spring has arrived quickly here in New Jersey and there I was, pushing a mower in a backyard I no longer enjoy spending any time in. The grass is patchier, there are more muddy areas (there has been A TON of rain in the past year or so and my backyard does not drain well), and I no longer care if it looks perfect. If I was not so stubborn, I would pay someone to do the mowing for me, but I am stubborn, so there are probably a few more years of sweaty labor ahead of me before I finally give in.
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