Owning a yard is work...
When we moved to KC, I wanted to be a Land Barron. No small back-yard was going to do it for me.
No sir. I needed land. Big tracks of land for frolicking and rolling. A huge expanse where I can stand at my door and say in my loud, booming, radio announcer voice:
"ALL THAT I SEE IS MINE!"
Now, I own my little plot of land...3/4ths of an acre actually.
It is big, but not quite as big as I imagined.
But, I got to say...when I stand at my door, usually it is a whimper coming out of my mouth...
"All that I see needs, mowing and weeding and trimming and watering and fertilizing and picking and cutting and piling and, well, work."
Gone is the booming voice. Gone is the desire to own large swaths of land. Gone is the proud thought of being a Land Barron.
And all that took its place is work.
Is it bad that in some way I miss the apartment living?