How Does Your Garden Grow?
My parents (well, DaddyCool mainly) are of the opinion that if something needs doing that you don't know how to do (plumbing, wiring, etc), then the solution is to hire someone to do it for you. A professional. Someone who is paid (a lot) to stick their head in the cavern under the sink for three hours to try and work out what's wrong with your drainage, fix it, and then charge you accordingly. This, to me, has always seemed logical. Particularly having seen the devastation wreaked when DaddyCool just once decided to Be A Man and try to fix a toilet leak himself. Believe me, you do NOT want to know...
In His family, on the other hand, Men are Men, and therefore if they don't know how to fix something, they just have to keep on trying until they can. No matter if it means causing more damage than good, no matter if it takes up their entire weekend, no matter if it makes them miserable as sin. To do otherwise would mean they lost their status as a Man.
So, about two weeks ago when we first happened to glance out of the window and notice the overgrown state of the back garden, my first reaction was "Let's hire someone to come and sort it out, then we can keep on top of it.". But no. I had inadvertently insulted His Manliness by even suggesting it. So, out into the jungle He strode, armed only with a flymo, and proceeded to struggle for the next two hours before admitting defeat. And to be honest, you couldn't really see any difference except that some of the long grass was flat and dirty instead of upright and green.
And so, last night, with Him sitting upstairs in the bedroom so He didn't have to watch, a team of professionals zoomed in, strimmed and mowed down the lot in under an hour, and then cheerfully zoomed off again taking all of the cut grass and weeds, and a cheque for £50.
Then, unexpectedly, He decided to prove His manliness in another way, by throwing me over His shoulder and carrying me off to His cave...
I should insult His Manliness more often. After all, it got me a lovely tidy garden AND a post-coital glow...
In His family, on the other hand, Men are Men, and therefore if they don't know how to fix something, they just have to keep on trying until they can. No matter if it means causing more damage than good, no matter if it takes up their entire weekend, no matter if it makes them miserable as sin. To do otherwise would mean they lost their status as a Man.
So, about two weeks ago when we first happened to glance out of the window and notice the overgrown state of the back garden, my first reaction was "Let's hire someone to come and sort it out, then we can keep on top of it.". But no. I had inadvertently insulted His Manliness by even suggesting it. So, out into the jungle He strode, armed only with a flymo, and proceeded to struggle for the next two hours before admitting defeat. And to be honest, you couldn't really see any difference except that some of the long grass was flat and dirty instead of upright and green.
And so, last night, with Him sitting upstairs in the bedroom so He didn't have to watch, a team of professionals zoomed in, strimmed and mowed down the lot in under an hour, and then cheerfully zoomed off again taking all of the cut grass and weeds, and a cheque for £50.
Then, unexpectedly, He decided to prove His manliness in another way, by throwing me over His shoulder and carrying me off to His cave...
I should insult His Manliness more often. After all, it got me a lovely tidy garden AND a post-coital glow...
posted by Mookmoo at 9:03 am
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