Breaking Us in Two

Breaking Us in Two

April showers bring May flowers…and for the last 6 years it also brought my landscaper.  With this cold/warm/cold weather we’ve been getting, I hadn’t taken note that our spring clean up was not carried out.  This includes trimming, grass cutting and general prepping of the yard for summer.   April is a ritual for me…and usually runs like clockwork…Sprinklers - Done, Pool Opened - Done, Spring Cleanup – Waiting, Waiting, Waiting.  Unfortunately, Meatloaf was wrong…2 out of 3 IS bad.

Despite a mild winter, the yard was strewn with leaves and broken branches.  Even with Max’s mulching abilities, the volume was too much for him to munch.  Also the grass began to grow, and grow.  The deck disappeared.  The weeds started to beat the flowers back, deeper into their beds.   Vines winded unchecked, attacking innocent evergreens as if angry at them that they had flourished year round.  Our address read 1313 Mockingbird Lane.

But where was my guy?

Our last communiqué was a certified correspondence containing last season’s paid invoice and a promise of this years contract.  The contract never came, but I held out hope.   I waited and began to worry his company no longer existed.  Or worse, was he all right…did something happen to him?   Unlike our sprinkler and pool places, my landscaper is a one-man show.  He whisks in at his convenience so I was accustomed to him hanging me on the vine.  I finally brought myself to call, which I never had to do before.  The sound of a business greeting soothed my fears of closer.  I left a message…and days went by.  I waited…like it was a post first date call.  Did he get my message? Should I call him again?  Would that be too soon?  He HAD to be coming, he always arrived eventually…RIGHT?

Days turned into weeks.  I was hesitant on hiring someone else since I thought as soon as they came…he would show up.  I didn’t want him to think I failed to keep the faith.  Christina and I decided to attack the avalanche of arbor ourselves.  We weed whacked a path that seemed more suited for a machete.   Both of us made little headway as the dense darkness consumed us.  She shouted at me “just call him again”…I assume it was her…. the brush hid her whereabouts.

I gave in.  I called and left an ultimatum…if you don’t show by Sunday, I am moving on.  The weekend came and went…and I was left at the altar.

Breaking up is hard to do…even when it is just with your landscaper.