I'm milkin' it...and workin' it

Noooo... Not the cow silly!
This being off work, and feeling that I have a life thing.

I do what I want, when I want... and I do it my way.

If I want to get up, I do.
If I want to lay down, I do that too.
If I want to scrub and clean, I get to do it at my own pace.
If I want to laze around and read trashy novels all day...
Well, you get the gist, right?

So today is going to be "run around and buy a load of crap for the yard" day, because the Old Guy started in mowing the grass yesterday, and while I was kicking back with a glass of iced tea and watching his manly muscles ripple as he pushed that ol' mower to and fro (well, not really ripply muscles, 'cause it's more like his tummy jiggles a bit) I realized that my backyard doesn't look like the average suburban backyard.
Nope, not one whit.
It looks more like the wilds of Borneo.

Now I would like to be able to look you straight in the eye and tell you that that's the look that I was going for all along.
The wild, jungley look.
The whole "nature at her finest", with masses of greenery and a riot of colour everywhere you look...

But that would be a lie.

It's just a mess.

With all the rain we've had lately, the damn weeds have sprouted like nobodies business, and the whole place has gotten absolutely out of control.
I mean, those weeds are thigh-high in places... and the paths are overgrown to the point where you can't even tell that there are paths there anymore.

The roses over the garden arch have now grown and filled in to the point where you would be taking your life in your hands - not to mention risking your eyeballs - if you were to even attempt to walk through it.
And since that's the whole point of the garden arch being there in the first place, it needs some serious work done on it today.
Well, not the risking your eyeballs point... but rather the walking through it, to get to other parts of the yard point.

And why do just that one little bit, when I can get to work on the rest of it as well... and make it somewhat presentable?

But to do that, I need tools.
And stuff.
Unfortunately, I'm a girl, and although I know what I need and want, I don't always know the proper terms for those tools.

The Old Guy gets so frustrated with me when I say that I want a "wacky thing" for doing the roses, or "killing stuff" for the pathways.
But that's why I need to make him aware of what I want... because the guy at the garden supply place doesn't have the Old Guys tolerance.
Or ability to decipher what I'm trying to say.

So, just as soon as I get off of here and get showered and dressed, I'm off to Bunnings to see what I can find.

I'll probably end up with $50 worth of actual tools, and then spend a small fortune on stuff like wind chimes and cement frogs and garden pots and new plants...

But that's just the way I roll, baby.