The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

So on the one hand, here is the totally cool thing that happened:

No wait, preface first: I had to have the front yard dug up last summer to get the sewer line replaced. Now sadly, the pipe replacing people didn’t slam the earth back to its pre-dug up shape, so I had a giant coffin thingy on my front yard. This year (as suggested by City Work 12774) I planted potatoes. They took an initial battering from the dogs before we moved the leashes to the back yard. A few of them took a hit from my son and his friends who apparently MUST take the most direct route to the front door, regardless of what stands in their way, and almost all of them got mauled when the tree that was eating my house came down. They lived, and I’ve been caring for them most tenderly ever since. There, that is the preface.

As A. and I were coming home on Saturday, we saw a sign in our neighbourhood that said “Free Sod – Take from Pile”. Well, divine intervention or what? I can’t afford sod, my yard was a sodding mess, so I did what any sane person would do: I pulled up all of the potatoes. Poor things, they tried so hard, and here I harvested a month or so too soon. But free sod! So I spent the rest of the day until games time moving sod from their house to mine. And then Sunday A. and I killed ourselves getting it down. I didn’t have a roller to make it look perfect (there are some things a Saturn can’t do, and bringing home a rental roller is one of them. I couldn’t bring myself to ask anyone with a truck for help. It just seemed wrong to ask people to get out of their Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes just to come over and help me with the whole sod moving, sod laying roller flattening extravaganza. But I did get a deal on the sod – bread for sod. I think I got the better deal, yes?

So that is the good thing. But here’s the other hand: I am loading the sod into a borrowed wheelbarrow, and it is hot and heavy work. The people whose sod it is are in their garage, relaxing after their own very hard sod laying (they did all of both yards, front and back), when their parents arrived. I am just putting the forth roll on the wheelbarrow when grandma says to me “My goodness, don’t you have a man to help you with that?”

Possible answers:
“Yep, I got me a man but he’s out back a’swillin beer, and I ain’t a gonna interrupt that”

“I done divorced the man I had, and I’se too pudgy for the one I wanted”.

“Man?? (sobbing) My man done up and died on me, and I’d just about gotten over it 'til now. I don’t think I kin go on livin”.

Unfortunately all I did was say "nope" in a very surprised voice. Old bat. Stupid old bat. RUDE stupid old bat.