Sometimes being a homeowner bites. Like when you have this wet spot in your grass that has been there since July, and you keep hoping it will dry up and go away. Finally you decide to ask your surrogate dad if it might be a problem, and he tells you to call a plumber. Things start going down hill from there.
You get the bright idea to go to Lowe’s Home Improvement and buy a cheap, $6.00 shovel, thinking, "Maybe it will save me a few bucks if I go ahead and dig the whole myself.” Ha!
So you wake up at 5:15 a.m. ready to shower for the day, and the water pressure doesn't seem quite right. You think to yourself, "I wonder if this has anything to do with that wet spot in my backyard?", but you shrug it off promising to call the plumber tomorrow. The problem gnaws at your conscious all day, and when you get home from school you Google a list of local handymen.
The fall weather has arrived, and when you open the back door you realize the wind has destroyed your lawn furniture. Grand, just grand! It's almost dark, and after a long day of work you decide to dig a hole in your backyard. You retrieve the inexpensive shovel from your disheveled garage, slipping on a pair of driving gloves to protect your hands. You go outside in your pink work slacks and your favorite pair of boots, thinking, “How hard can it be to move a little dirt around?”
It doesn’t take long to discover why you’re supposed to have a husband to do these kinds of chores. Before you know it, you’re covered in black mud, and the grass roots make it next to impossible to uncover the pipes. You’re not making any headway, and now your favorite pair of corduroys is ruined. You fall down in the crisp, cold grass and stare up at the sky. “Why God? Why am I doing this crap on my own? This is not how I wanted my life to look at 27!” It all just seems so unfair.
I think I will go eat dinner with my friends now. They’re checking out a new Indian restaurant, which I can’t say I’m all that thrilled about. I really want to crawl up on the couch and watch old Friends reruns, but I figure I should force myself to go. Maybe I’ll be reminded of the positive things about the single life, or maybe I’ll just fake my way through another dinner date."