We’ve had the builders in. The garden’s in a mess; I’ve not been able to get out there because of the building work. There’s also a new cat in the neighbourhood that has mistaken our garden for a restroom.
Today, I went into the garden to start re-fixing the rotary washing line. I anticipated doing lots of gruelling things with concrete and paving slabs, but I soon realised that I would first have to cut the grass. Though before I could do anything else, I had to pick up all the cat mess. So I did. Then I went to the shed and plugged in the strimmer, just to deal with the worst of the grass. It didn't work, so I checked all the power connections. They were fine. The strimmer was broken.
I wondered if I would be able to fix it. Ample evidence of my frankly astonishing ability to fix almost anything can be found in the cuts sustained by my leg when the strimmer roared into life.
I strimmed the grass. It seems that I hadn't actually cleared all the cat mess after all.
After washing my trainers, I went to the shed to retrieve the Flymo. On exiting the shed, I banged my head on the roof, which caused me to duck my head downwards rather quickly. On ducking my head, my open, right eye was brought into sharp contact with the handle of the Flymo. I suspect a black eye is developing.
I Flymo'd the grass. Further hitherto undiscovered lumps of cat mess were dislodged by the spinning blade. Some of them flew into the air. Some of them missed me.
But not many.
After finishing with the Flymo, I decided the grass would benefit from further strimming. Whilst jauntily walking backwards, whistling a little grass strimming tune that I had just made up, I tripped over the cable. Luckily, the rotary washing line was there to break my fall. Unluckily, and thanks largely to the excavating abilities of our dogs, the rotary washing line is no longer securely fixed in the ground which, as you know, is why I went out there in the first place. By now, thoroughly unbalanced in every sense of the word, I stumbled across the lawn, pausing only to tread in a newly discovered lump of cat mess.
I picked myself up, took off my trainers, washed them again, put away the gardening tools and went indoors. Whilst I'd been busy doing garden related activities, one of the dogs had entered the house and thrown up something foamy and fluorescent green. In four separate places. I don't know which dog, but it had better either recover or die, very quickly, because I'm not touching anything like that again.
Anyway, we had run out of kitchen roll, so to clean it up I had to use a tea towel, which I then put straight in the bin.
The good news, however, is that my accident with the washing line seems to have secured it rather better than before, so with any luck, there will be no need to do the whole concrete, paving slab thing that I had originally intended.
If there's a moral to this story, I don't want to know what it is.