The sunlight, it burns

I kept looking outside this morning with the raised eyebrow of betrayed disbelief on my face. The sun was out there. Sure, there were some clouds, thankfully, but much too often, that obnoxious bright star at the center of our solar system was peeking out from behind them. It was mocking me, I’m sure of it.

Yes, I realize that most people are happy to see the sun in the beginning of April. Usually it’s nothing but a sequence of dreary sogginess around here this time of year, so the appearance of that large orange ball in the sky is welcomed. Then again, most years I don’t put down grass seed in the spring. I did last weekend, though, all over my yard.

See, last summer was the driest, hottest summer recalled by anyone not having first-hand experience with Civil War battles or memories of when those new-fangled “talkie” movies with the audible dialog were all the rage. When you combine the abysmal heat with my personal opinion on watering grass (I feel it’s a lot like Hollywood’s depiction of the bimbo trophy wife, i.e. costly and stupid), well, you end up with some pretty dry ground. And I don’t mean your standard dry here, I mean, like completely barren and devoid of any moisture whatsoever. Think about your mother-in-law’s Thanksgiving stuffing* after being left in a beef jerky dehydrator for two months.

Not surprisingly, in such, um, sub-prime conditions, a few patches of my lawn got a little burned out. Personally, I think the sun hates me and spent last summer shining on my lawn like a tanning lamp set on ‘Extra Bake: New Jersey-Style’ 25 hours a day. But I can’t prove that and astronomers say it’s not possible. I’m sure they’re just lying to me to further their own wicked agenda. You just can’t trust those science types,

At any rate, I put seed down last weekend, expecting that I’d be blessed with the usual end of March/beginning of April weather patterns. By yesterday, I figured my yard would resemble the kind of squishiness prevalent in spring around here, and the little seedlings would be happy, sprout and grow. Of course, my luck being what it is, and the Earth’s climate hating me as it does, there was no rain this week. None. I guess there was a light dusting of snow on Tuesday or something, but I’m pretty sure that didn’t do a whole lot for my dreams of having a lush, green lawn like you see on commercials.

It did spit a little bit yesterday, but hardly enough to even wet the ground. I’m pretty sure it was just enough to make the seedlings realize how much water they aren’t getting. And still, all day today, the big ball of yellow has mocked me from the sky, peeking out from behind clouds every few seconds as if to say, “Here I am, buddy, screw you and your dried-out lawn too.”

I guess it really is time to get out that Middle-Aged Guy garden hose.

Pud’n

*To my knowledge, my Mother-in-Law has never made stuffing that I’ve consumed, so clearly I’m talking about other people’s mothers-in-law here.

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