Water, water, everywhere. And not a drop to drink. Actually, that's misleading. We are quite well hydrated here at the Mansion. Get it? We have a well, you see. And it never runs dry.
What I should have said is: Grass, grass, everywhere. And not a blade's been mowed. Farmer H is so busy gallivanting around the county, mowing my grandma's grass and wiring his buddy's rental house, that he has neglected our front yard. A yard which is measured in acres. He trimmed the area adjoining the Mansion last week, but the front is way tall. I can hardly see the horses across the road. Except when one of them breaks out to graze on our plush landscape.
It's a good thing we don't have Direct TV, like that Russian-accented dude on the commercial, who smooches his mini giraffe on the sofa pillow after it plays hard-to-get. Because if we had a mini giraffe, we would lose him in the front yard. That's how high the grass is. The Pony declares that we could lose a full-size giraffe. I think he exaggerates a bit.
I don't know where he gets it.
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2 comments:
I have an idea, get those horses tethered in your front yard and let them mow the grass for you :)
Cazzie,
I was hoping Farmer H's goats would start earning their keep. But every time he lets them out, they eat my rose bush and lilac bush and The Pony's tree that he planted two years ago.
Just this morning, I saw a story on the news about Rent A Goat. It would be highway robbery to rent out OUR goats for mowing. They would get fired the first day.
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