I have put it off enough. WE have put it off enough. The lawn at the cottage need attention, and lots of it.
This means several hours of sitting on a lawn tractor, probably with ear muffs on, to protect my delicate hearing. For the most part, I don't mind being out there. I can be on the lawn tractor for hours at a time, lost in my thoughts, solving all the world's problems, plotting the Great Canadian Novel, and scarcely notice the time go by. As long as I have access to a bathroom from time to time, I'm good to go.
Patricia will remain inside while I sweat my Bevboy's off, or perhaps sit outside on the back deck, watching me without a trace of guilt on her face. It is a Bevboy's lot, after all.
Perhaps she will make a good meal for us, or point innocently at the kitchen and order me to wear that French Maid uniform yet again and prepare dinner.
What a wonderful day I've planned for myself.
I'd better get started.