Sidenote: Today's blog is being co-written by my husband, who is in a foul mood... Enjoy!
Six weeks ago to the day, my husband, JB, asked his brother to mow the back lawn. Said brother agreed enthusiastically that he would comply.
And we watched... watched for six, rain-soaked weeks as the grass grew and grew... and G-R-E-W. We'd drop hints as the backyard turned into a grassy Savannah-like environment that danced with the winds from each and every hurricane that passed the peninsula. With each day, we watched his favorite deaf and dumb dog, Hank, leap over the tall grass while imagining he would be pounced upon by waiting lions as they stalked their prey.
Today, JB repeated this request and was met with adamant, block-headed opposition. The request was shot down by said assailant, who claimed his precious social life was more important than any obligation to his family.
We continue to ask ourselves if we should buy lion-repellent and hope for the best or hire tutsi (African lion hunters) to patrol the backyard.
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