Meet the Duggans: The Worst Groundskeepers in the Neighborhood

I sometimes wonder what our neighbors think about our yard. We have at least one neighbor who sprays terrible toxic chemicals on the weeds that grow up through the cracks at the end of our driveway. My husband, Dan, tries to get to them with the weed whacker before it gets to that point because we are kind of anti-Roundup types (if you hadn't already guessed). But we have a hard time beating our neighbor to the punch.

But that is summertime stuff. The fall brings about its own set of challenges.

A few weeks ago, I thought that particular neighbor was out of town. I hadn't seen him doing anyone's yard work for a while.

"Oh, he's here," Dan said. "I saw him judging our tree yesterday."

Dan was referring to a strangely shaped evergreen in the corner of our front yard. Resembling a green, hairy version of Monty Python's Black Knight, it hangs over the sidewalk and declares to all joggers and mothers with strollers, "None shall pass!" It has to violate some homeowners association ordinance.

The other day Dan said, "I trimmed up that tree."

"You did? So it's not blocking the sidewalk anymore?" I added, giggling at my own wit, "Did it say 'It's just a flesh wound!' when you cut its branches?"

"Not that tree."

"Oh."

We also have a leaf situation mostly due to the fact that neither of us ever feels like raking. Dan did end up raking leaves last weekend. My sacred belief is you shouldn't have to do yard work but once a week. Anything else just seems like landscape overkill.

Friday evening, I exited through our front door for the first time all week and was greeted by a deluge of fallen leaves. Unable to see our paved walkway, I kicked through the leaves until I got to the sidewalk. There was an bright side though. One of my favorite fall activities is hearing leaves crunch under my feet anyway.

As I jogged around the neighborhood, I noticed that no other yard was as buried as ours, not even close.

"I think we might need to rake," I told Dan when I returned. "I almost drowned in a sea of leaves when I went for a run."

"It's not that bad, is it?"

I shrugged, "I guess it will keep solicitors away."

The truth is neither one of us have much initiative when it comes to fall yard or house work. At this time of the year, we would rather stay inside and watch the Syfy channel. But, partially due to this lack of motivation, staying inside was getting a little uncomfortable too.

A few days ago, the temperatures outside starting dropping to twenty and below in the mornings. We had the thermostat set to seventy-three, but our house was not getting above sixty-seven. We spent a lot of time thinking about whether or not it would snap out of it and work eventually. Then we spent more time wondering if we should call the furnace people or try other things first. Then Dan read owner's manual which suggested changing the filter and/or thermostat batteries. Finally, after about thirty-six hours of no heat and researching and weighing options and coming up with Plans A, B, and C, Dan changed the filter and batteries.

"The temperature's going up!" Dan said a few hours after the filter change.

"Imagine that. You follow the directions in the manual and. . ."

Then he began to wonder whether or not the problem had been the filter or the batteries. So he removed the new batteries, replaced them with the old batteries, and the furnace kept working.

"It must have been the filter."

"Just like the manual said," I pointed out. "Now we have a working heater and clean air."

What more could we want? Maybe we should get to that tree sometime . . . "Tis but a scratch!"

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