Picture it: My Yard, 2006

(that was a nod to Sophia from the Golden Girls, in case you aren't familiar with the best show of all time)

I took a half day off work because there was nothing going on. I decided to spend my free time reading a book and then I was going to move on to mowing the yard and perhaps mending my fence.

I read the book! Hooray for small victories!

I went out in the back yard to start gathering up pieces of plastic that used to be frisbees and various other dog toys and proceeded to head to the gate to unlock it. When my dad built my gate, he modeled it after Fort Knox or something. There are three bar-type latches that are just pieces of wood that swing from one side of the gate to another (Picture a medieval castle door). I'm always scared when I attempt to unlatch them because that's 3 places for a spider to lie in wait for my (un)suspecting hand. This day was no different. I unlatched the top bar, no problems. I went for the second bar and the minute I knocked it out of place, I saw movement. It wasn't spiders, though, it was a swarm of wasps. (and when I saw swarm, I mean 4 or 5, but it might as well have been 400) I screamed like the girl that I am and went running around the yard (thank goodness for privacy fencing--worth every penny), then I yelled at the girls that we all had to go inside. We did.

I came back out armed with the only weapon I could find (no, not the long-forgotten bug vacuum that sits on top of my refrigerator--totally different blog post, there), a can of ant spray. There was no nest, though, so I just sprayed the fence. Maybe they won't come back.

My legs felt like jello after that little scare, but (call me She-Ra if you want to) I soldiered on. I decided to try to fix the fence. There's a broken board. I have my theories (involving my neighbor's kid and a baseball) about how that happened, but it's pure speculation. Anyway, I couldn't figure out a way to get the old board to come off and decided I need a crowbar or some other implement that I could use as a lever. I don't own anything of the sort.

I sent a text message to the boy simply asking if he had a crowbar. Right about now he's probably fearing that I'm up to something illegal (probably involving a Beagle and me taking procautions to make sure I get to sleep through the night from now on).