You were soooo dreamy when we first met!!
I thought how good you’d be for my kids and how well we’d all get on together.
I had imagined us all sat in the sunshine sipping Pimms, perhaps on some low budget outdoor furniture from Argos. There might even have been a tacky lantern or two, just because.
I’d imagined my kids rolling around on your lush, well-manicured green; laughing, playing ball, hell, I was even going to let you meet our paddling pool.
And at first everything was so good between us.
My friends would comment on how beautiful you were, and I definitely saw a neighbour or two checking you out when they thought their lawns weren’t looking.
At first I relished nurturing you. I let you drink from our garden hose when you were thirsty and fed you random grass feed shit from B&Q when you were weak.
But now…well there’s no way of sugar coating this….I hate you, you shitty green scourge on my existence.
You’ve caused problems in my marriage. We argue at least once a week in the summer months about you.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you start inviting any old greenery over; thistles, clover, weird-coloured weeds, weird stuff I don’t know the name of.
I don’t need that kind of shit on my property, lawn.
And you’re starting to let yourself go a bit if I’m honest. You’re looking unkempt and a bit rough round the edges. Like, hello, strim much?!
So lawn, I’ve just about had enough.
I’m getting professional help.