And the Winner of Worst Back Yard in the ‘Hood Goes to…

Me.

Now that the tree people have picked  up the logs, ground out the stumps, and raked each blade of grass next door, my back yard looks terrible.  I’m not talkin’ a little sprucing up and I’m good to go.  I’m talking major overall.  I’m talking power tools.  “I’m claiming “Backyard to the Bone” as  my battle cry.

First of all I have to put together a wardrobe.  Now before anyone thinks I’m one of those “Women’s Wear Daily” stylists, um, no.  The wardrobe required for this task includes, but is not limited to, long pants, tall boots, long sleeve shirt, chemical gloves, and perhaps a mask.

The styling also includes the “apres battle” couture.  A “fast change” must take place the  minute one enters the house.  Clothes removed and thrown into a laundry basket with minimal contact.  I’m thinkin’ a bathrobe might work, but then that one goes into the laundry basket as soon as my sensitive skin hits the cool shower.

Now towel selection shares equal importance in transitioning from  “Backyard Warrior” to “Histamine Control Specialist”.  The post-shower routine calls for several towels to prevent cross-contamination that could lead to a membership in the Benadryl Battalion.   Into fresh clean clothes and the battle’s almost won…I said almost.

Those backyard battle fatigues can’t wash themselves.  This is where one’s best efforts can turn in a heartbeat, so listen well.  Before I touch that nasty laundry basket I’m putting on a plastic garden apron and gloving up.  As soon as the last Urushiol-infested garment hits the water, the apron jumps into the pool.  The gloves hit the trash.

Poison Ivy is NOT my friend.  Lock and load.

Maybe I’ll take a “selfie” in battle garb.  Nah.

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