Next time I’m living in a pine forest
I had an interesting discussion with one of my housemates today regarding appropriate property maintenance in the fall. Both of us are from the Northeast: me from the Mid-Atlantic region and the housemate in question from the New England territories. Therefore, both of us have basically the same reference points for most seasonal shifts. Summer becomes ungodly and the days are occassionally broken up by a late day fantastical thunderstorm. Winter is best experienced while drinking instant hot chocolate and staring out at the aftermath of a blizzard. Spring is a necessary transitional season between winter and summer: generally soggy and the only reason people care about it at all is that they are conditioned to like the thought of germanation and new growth (although it would be logical rather that this happens throughout the late fall and winter and only in spring does one see the final stage of such processes… lies taught to you in elementary school… lies). Which brings me to autumn.
The season of Columbus Day, Halloween, Election Day, and Thanksgiving. The season in which pumpkins, turkeys, apples and assorted cider-based potent potables are consumed (most ridiculous Jeopardy category ever). The season in which students go back to school, tire of school, and cut school altogether. And the season when the natural world decides to take a psychedelic trip. Greenery is replaced by an explosion of oranges, reds, yellows, and browns. And while in mid-October, this is a breathtaking panoramic sight, in mid-Novemeber it becomes thr source of back-breaking labor, and a contast cycle of it at that.
Here was the discussion: should we pay the sub-par gardener that we did not hire and have no say in terminating his employment (hooray not reading rental agreements before signing them… fml) to do the fall cleanup, or should we simply rake ourselves. My position: I don’t rake. I don’t care who does it, but I will not be doing it. This does not (only) emerge from a sense of entitlement. Rather, it springs from the fact that I work for a living so to afford certain luxuries. Owning overpriced remastered Criterion Collection DVDs is one of them. Not having to buy non-gym clothes at Target is another one. And not having to deal with my own lawncare is certainly another one after that. So I am more than willing to pay someone (trained professional or otherwise) to rake, mow, seed, reseed, and whatever else is required for making sure that the life cycle of the lawn and plantlife that surrounds it continues to thrive. My housemate/s has/have different thoughts on the matter.
Their shared position is to declare shenanigans on the arrangement and decide to rake the lawn themselves. Fine. Have fun. Go to. I’m not going to stop them. Why? Because I don’t care. My only position is (to repeat): I don’t rake. But I don’t particularly care who does. As long as I can arrive at the house and not feel that I’m Colin Farrell stomping through the New World in search of whatever, I’m happy.
So the agreement with the landlord was as follows: we (understood as some occupant of the house that is not me) would rake and clear brush in a George W. Bush-esque manner, and the gardener would come to mow when called upon and needed. A simple plan. A fair plan. And yet there is one small conditional that needs to happen for this plan to be enacted: someone has to actually rake the damn leaves! It’s not enough to declare that you refuse to pay someone. That’s fine. But then you best be out there with your ergonomically correct lawn care implement heaving and hoing and getting that ish done. What is completel unacceptable is to simly come up with a series of excuses for why you have not raked yet in an effort to get out raking at all.
Unacceptable excuses:
1) It’s too cold (It’s Novemeber. And…?)
2) More leaves will fall tomorrow. I’ll rake then (Right, and you’ll also be hungry again tomorrow. Are you fasting now?)
3) I don’t see why we should have to rake at all (Because you do. You unfortunately chose to live in a house surrounded by deciduous trees and grass. It’s a lethal combination. So deal)
4) I’ll find someone else to do (Ok. And you’re going to do that… when exactly? Because that equally requires some element of effort)
5) I don’t want to (See explanation #3)
6) Well, I’m busy (Wrong card to play)
All have been uttered at different pionts throughout the past four weeks. All have been met with my statement of “It’s not my problem. I don’t rake. I’ll pay the guy. You don’t want to pay the guy? You deal with it.” Which is then met with glaring, pouting, stomping of feet, and general ridiculousness.
So I am left waiting to see how all of this will ultimately play out. Who will win? Who will lose? Who will rake? Who will get paid? Will the lessons of the great shovel debate of winter 08/09 or the not so great recycling standoff of October 09 be learned, or will the dog need to have its face rubbed in its own urine again? Tune in next time for… oh never mind. I don’t care. And why don’t I care? Because as far as I’m concerned, I know what I’m doing about this. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And why is that, you may ask. It’s simple: I don’t rake.
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