Do We Live in a DadGum Rainforest?

I really think this weather is some kind of cosmic joke. Remember how yesterday I said I was going to work on chopping down the backyard wilderness like Daniel Boone (did Daniel Boone chop stuff down?)? I donned my coon skin cap and I got the trimmer to work on the first try, nonsense levers and all (I am smarter than I look!). I worked for over an hour and then I thought that maybe since it was raining and thundering and lightning, and I had grass all caught up in that fancy piece of machinery, I should stop. All that being said, I made my way through about half of my yard.

But seriously. There is no reason why it should be raining in August. My grass should be good and dead by now, but NOOOOOO, it has to rain every other day. I am outraged.

And when I got finished, I had an e-mail from my ex-boyfriend saying that he just couldn't stand to see me working that hard and that I just need to leave the gate open so he can come weed eat it for me while I'm at work. (Did I mention he's my neighbor and that he was watching the whole spectacle through the fence?) I told him no and he said he was going to throw me some work gloves over the fence (because I have blisters on my hands now) and I told him no because Butter will eat them. I should throw Butter over HIS fence, seeing as how he's the reason I have her. But that's a story for a different time.

And that's how exciting my life is.