What could possibly go wrong in a place where sunsets like this happen every day in your backyard?
Well, if you’re Chris, you could come home to THIS in your backyard one day instead.
Allow me to explain…
When we moved into this house, one of our favorite features was the privacy of the fenced in backyard. Not only was there a fence for the dogs, but there was high shrubbery all around.
And we loved that. For one thing, it meant the dogs couldn’t see every time a neighbor was out in their backyard, so it kept them a little quieter. But mostly what we loved about it was the privacy. I could squeeze my big ol’ preggo self into a little bathing suit (not unlike a sausage casing, really…) and then I could plop myself down in the pool on eight or nine foam noodles and no one could judge me. Because no one could see me. It also meant that at night, we didn’t worry about closing blinds or anything silly like that because no one could see in through our shrubbery.
A couple days ago, I got a short little email from our property manager. It said: “Hi Katie, the yard crew will be coming by on Thursday and Friday to trim the hedges in the backyard. Just letting you know.”
Wonderful! As you can see from the picture, the shrubs were getting a little fat and they needed to be cleaned up a bit.
We had already planned that when the shrubs were cut back a bit, we were going to put white lights in all the bushes so that at night it would be all lit up real nice and pretty-like. And then Southern Living Magazine would come out and do a photo shoot out in our backyard. And we’d all wear navy gingham (except Chris who would just wear khakis, a white shirt, and a navy blazer) and serve a ridiculously luxurious picnic out amongst the fireflies in our big, private backyard.
Okay, so maybe that last part was really just MY plan…
But today, we came home to mass devastation in our backyard.
Hidee Ho there, Neighbor! (name that TV show staring my junior high heart throb…)
And hello to you, Neighbor on the Other Side…
Now, I ask you. How in the world is Southern Living Magazine going to come out and do a gingham photo shoot in my backyard with this crap laying around and with those choppy, wimpy little shrubs sticking up out of the ground?
While I was sort of bummed about our backyard massacre, I went on about my evening. I had a hungry child to feed and a pack of crackers to throw up, after all. But I thought I was going to have to sedate Chris. Or shoot him with a tranquilizer gun. Or tazer him. (Not that I own a tranquilizer gun or a tazer… Actually, I don’t even have any sedatives, so really my only option was to knock him upside the head with a frying pan.)
He was horrified at our loss of privacy. Horrified. Outraged. Irate. It wasn’t pretty.
They are coming back tomorrow to clean up the mess that’s out there, but hauling the debris away isn’t going to give us back any of the privacy we really loved. And that’s a bummer.
Or, if you’re Chris, that’s THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT, PEOPLE! WHY ISN’T ANYONE ELSE AS OUTRAGED AS I AM?!?!