Guess what happened to me this weekend?
Productivity, indeed, in the form of a few lawn mowing machines and a bit of manual labour. Within a few hours on Saturday afternoon, our yard went from this disaster…
The simple act of mowing my front lawn that hadn’t been touched since two—yes, two—summers ago was healing to me. I’d been feeling overwhelmed with my list of projects to tackle over the summer, but one item is done. And I feel free.
Poor Kyle may have gotten the riding lawn mower, but don’t be deceived—his job was way bigger than mine, because he also had to do the back yard, which has been known to look like this at times:
Plus, he got put on weed-whacker duty for the front yard and back. Poor Kyle…
Also, see that ugly brown fence near where Poor Kyle is mowing (two picutres up)? It causes me a lot of strife. First, because, well, it’s ugly. And second, because that riding lawn mower won’t fit through either of the two gates that fence has to offer. So we borrow Poor Kyle’s parents’ riding lawn mower to do our boulevard and back yard, but we can never get our immediate front yard tidied up without borrowing someone else’s push mower. Very annoying. What’s even more annoying is that I don’t want to buy a mower for just one little stretch of grass. But soon, my friends, it has to happen. I can’t keep living like this:
In other news, I recycled a truck load of cans on Saturday, and made more money than I’ve earned since I moved to Canada two years ago…
I’d like to thank the government of Canada, who, despite not allowing me to work in their country for the time being, thus making my university tuition ridiculously overpriced and causing me a lot of angst, nevertheless pays 10 cents for every can (and more for glass bottles) recycled. And also, to those of you who specifically go out of your way NOT to recycle, I’d like to say…well, what can I say? Nothing, really. The proof is in the puddin’ and all that jazz.
Then, as if my hundred-dollar haul of cans wasn’t enough to top off a glorious Saturday, our neighbors randomly called and offered to buy our dog house (which was left behind by the previous owners, and has not been used by us once, save that time Poor Kyle and I had a sleepover out there) (just kidding).
Poor Kyle and I deliberated amongst ourselves, and came up with $100.00 as an asking price, and you know what that neighbor said? He said, “How about $150?”
Ummm…okay. Works for us.
So now I want to know what else I can sell—my hair? My nail clippings? Lemonade? Bread? Cinnamon rolls? Labour? I’m up for just about anything.
Making money has opened up a brave new world for me this week.