I adore my dear husband. Really. And I love that he is frugal like me. Really. And I love his stubborn streak. Really. Or most of the time.
When it comes to the fiasco that has become of our one-and-only rake, I must simply shake my head.
Let me begin at the beginning.
We have trees. Loads of trees. A plethora, if you will.
Which means that come autumn, we have even more leaves. Legions of leaves. At first, it’s great fun with all the piling and jumping. For the kids it’s a wonderland and the colors are spectacular.
But now it’s November. And they simply must go. But our rake… *sigh*
The handle on our dependable rake failed. Broken, completely in two. Naturally, I thought it was time for a new rake. After all, old faithful has certainly served us well and it was time for him to retire. Silly old me.
“Nonsense,” said dear hubby, “I have just the thing!” After disappearing into the basement for several minutes, he emerged with a long metal pipe (consequently calling to mind the lead pipe from our trusty Clue game). The pipe was taller than me. (To this day we have no idea where it came from. My husband might argue it was gift from above, a fall miracle.) Surprisingly the pipe was threaded on the end like a screw and was a perfect fit onto the end of the rake. Imagine that.
So now we have this monster of a rake. I swear it weighs at least 25 pounds and its much taller than me. I can barely wield it at all. On the bright side, it’s a pretty intense workout just to rake the leaves. And judging from the size of our yard and the amount of leaves on the ground, one of us is going to be looking pretty awesome by the time it’s all done. But I don’t think it’s going to be me…
Have at it, Sweet Husband. I think I’ll sip my coffee and watch you from the window seat.
Blue Jeans & Coffee Beans.