The Incredible Doofy Gardener

Mostly when I see people doing yard work, they look like they're enjoying it. They have big, beautiful landscapes and weedless yards. I see ladies in pink pants and matching gardening gloves, gently patting the ground with their tiny hand-shovel (I know it has a real name, I just don't know the name of it). They wear clean white visors and only get dirt on their floral-pattern aprons. They smile, for goodness sake. They're not even sweating!

When I attempt yard work (I won't say "do" yard work, because that's not entirely accurate), I look like I'm putting on a one-woman circus show with way too many acts.

I don't have cute gardening gear or matchy yard work clothes. I have my husband's elastic-shot boxer shorts with a scrunchy tied around one end of the waist to hold them up. I wear a gigantic t-shirt with red paint stains and a stinky baseball cap to shield my eyes. I have a pair of kid's winter mittens instead of gardening gloves. My tools are rusty and the handles fall off. I have a wheel barrow with a flat tire and broken cardboard boxes that serve as a tarp for dragging stuff around when it's too heavy to life into the barrow.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you... The Incredible Doofy Gardener.

Act 1: The Forgetful Clown - It doesn't matter how many times I prep for yard work or how organized I leave my tools from the day before. I will inevitably make fifteen back-and-forth trips from the front yard to the back garage, and once I finally get it all set to work, I'll realize I did the front yard yesterday and it all needs to be moved to the back. There's also an angry dance, but I won't describe that here.

Act 2: The Sweaty Lady/Mud Man - Please tell me other people look like they took a shower with their clothes on during yard work. Sweat+Dirt = Mud Monster. Maybe don't wait til now to ask an impressionable young child for help - he might lock the doors on you.

Act 3: Elephant Weeds - Have you ever pulled a really, really big weed? Like a weed that's as tall as you if you count the root? When we moved here, not much had been done with the yard in years, so the weeds were pretty deep. I'm 5 feet tall and I've never had a functional equilibrium. It goes likes this: Pull, pull, pull, pull, nothing. Change footing. Pull, pull, pull, pull, a little budge. Secure footing, grasp root with both hands, put my back into it. Pull, pull, pull, pull, fly backwards and land on my head with my butt in the air. Weed's out! Thank myself for remembering underwear under those boxer shorts and move on to the next job.

Act 4: Balancing Act - Sometimes when you dig with a big shovel and you're maybe not as strong as the dirt, you have to jump on the shovel to get it into the ground. It's kind of like a pogo stick, without the bouncing. Due to my above-mentioned lack of equilibrium, this is about as tricky as walking a tight-rope, and just as dangerous. Shovels fall over - they don't have an equilibrium, either. On the few occasions when I do manage to step off the shovel before I hit the ground with it, I usually over correct and end up spinning around to land on my face.

Curtain Call. I'm pretty sure I hear Sprinkles barking from inside the window until I drag myself back up. It could be the neighbors laughing from across the street, but I'm gonna just keep pretending Sprinkles has my back.