Okay, so you're not bad on the eyes, but Lady, stop it.
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Stop cutting your grass every four days. Stop painting furniture in your driveway. Stop hanging plants and sweeping the sidewalk, stop trimming the bushes, stop repairing your fence slats (I hate to sound sexist, but shouldn't you call a guy or something to do that for you?) and for the love of God, please don't ever let me see you dipping your dog between rainstorms again.
More to the point, quit doing these things across the street from my house where my wife can see you! You have been here one week. Seven days. Each day that you're out there, edging your driveway with a steak knife because, "it just looks so much neater than using the edger," the glimmer in my wife's eye loses a bit of its sheen when she looks at our edges, then her gaze rests upon me. ME. Like I've done something to disappoint her. Like suddenly, I don't quite measure up. Like my dog smells because he hasn't been dipped since last Christmas. Lady, knock it off! You're totally messing up my mojo!
Weekends are for watching sporting events on TV. In the evening, I want to get home, eat dinner, and relax. What kind of Yard Nazi gets off work, changes out of a dress and high heels, and cranks up the mower? The Astros were playing and you were mowing! Okay, I admit, it was hot watching you drill those picture frames in the driveway, because women with tools are just hot, but you're making me look and feel like a lazy little girl in front of my wife! And my dog!
Okay, I know things could be worse. You could be a ghetto rat who can't wait to trash the yard, or someone with 16 relatives and toys scattered all over the street and driveway. You could build a meth lab or a dogfighting ring in the back, you could be one of those ladies who has a different guy over to the house every night, but no, your problem is that you're just TOO RESPECTABLE. Lady, I want to like you, and I probably will like you, and I really enjoy watching you fix things that need it, and you've made the property, which was empty for months, really come to life and look wonderful. But. Please. Stop. Ruining. Things. For. The. Lazy. You've totally blown my cover with my wife! I've worked for several years to get that woman to accept the bare minimum of effort from me, and you're making me have to get off my ass. Did you know, my wife actually ACCEPTED that I couldn't mow with all the rain, before you came along and did your yard? That's right, when it rained, I used to enjoy at least a five-day reprieve. Then you came along and did it between showers. Damn you and your hot little white shorts. By the way, I worry about you cutting the grass barefoot, but crap, I've got other worries. Like, how I'm going to pretend to my wife that you must be crazy or excessive and anal when you're really just doing what any new home buyer should do.
How many times do I read CL and see rants from people who have trashy neighbors. I wouldn't trade you, no, and I realize this isn't a huge problem in the grand scheme of things, but damn. I wish the tidy do-it-yourselfer who just moved in would take a chill pill and a weekend off. Last time my wife got onto me about "we really need to clean OUR grill, too," and I said, "Well, honey, don't let her put you to shame, get on it!" guess who got in trouble. And guess who had to stand there with the scrubber and go over that nasty grill. Shit.
Yeah you all can call me pussy-whipped, but fifteen years married and happy, so whatever floats your boat. I love my wife and wouldn't trade her, not even for Chick With Tools, but I wouldn't be a man if I didn't imagine my wife in those white shorts with a hammer tucked into her beltloops as she climbs that ladder, doing all the work...although I know it's never going to happen, don't deny a man his fantasy. Okay, and have I mentioned that cute chicks who know how to use power tools are HOT!