|How Kay looks when she gets her way.|
Although it goes against everything I stand for, I once again find myself involved in the preparing and maintaining of another of Kay’s gardens. For the past two planting seasons, I’ve managed to keep our homestead gardenless. That means less work and less expenditures. But, this year Kay turned on me.
She’s not even crafty anymore. Instead of trying to trick me into agreement on some hairbrain notion of hers, she just up and tells me what she’s going to do. The woman has gone rogue.
One morning last week I was headed out the door to take out the garbage. Kay said, “Hey that box on the carport contains edging for a raised garden bed.” -- Just like that. She paid $30 for an eight by four-foot raised garden border without asking me.
We have an understanding that we can each spend upwards of $60 without consulting the other. She can buy shoes or jewelry without telling me. I can purchase a $60 tool or toy without consulting her. But, it’s understood that we each need permission before we can spend any amount of money on a project that requires involvement for the both of us. Stuff like that leads to chaos.
No matter. Unbeknownst to me, a $30 unassembled garden bed ended up on the carport. (Cool word “unbeknownst.”) Blindsided I was. -- “Oh, we’re going to need to buy some top soil. I figure it will take about 24 cubic feet,” she said. -- Cubic feet? Kay doesn’t do math. I have no idea how many times I’ve had to tell her what nine times six is or eight times seven. She’s no good with multiplying, yet, she somehow figured out cubic feet. I can only assume it’s due to the resent onslaught of bad juju.
A girl at Home Depot loaded the bags of top soil for me. I wore my arm sling as way of indicating I had a bad wing. Had I not done that she would’ve judged me as just another lazy old man. She probably sees a lot of us. I mean “them.” She sees them. -- I tipped her well. She seemed surprised. See what I mean about prejudging?
When I got home, Kay helped me unload the top soil. She took none of my suggestions about where to locate the garden. -- “No, we’re going to put it on the southeast corner of the front yard.” -- To her credit she dug out the plot pretty much by herself. I helped put the bedding border together, and helped her haul each bag of topsoil. When we finished, she said we could go get the tomato plants the next day.
So, it’s a tomato garden. I recommended okra, but I was not thinking rationally. We bought four varieties of tomatoes. The types that I recommended were all wrong. Every one of ‘em. I might as well have been handing her a pots of okra. – “No, that one grows too big. That one matures too early. That one too late…” It’s like she’s pulling this nonsense out of her… place where she stores her nonsense.
Kay did agree to buy one tomato plant in a hanging basket. I don’t know what kind it was, but that buddy already had over 50 tiny tomatoes on it. I'm not joking. It was covered with ‘em. I told Kay that I’d hang it in the backyard by the kitchen window, so we could keep an eye on it. When we got home, she hung it in the front yard so we could check on it as we walked to the mailbox.
You know what’s happening, don’t you? I’ve traced it all back to my arm injury. (And, this will be the last time I bring up the subject. I know you thought last week’s article was the last time, but I was mistaken.) Ever since the doctor cautioned me not to push, pull or lift anything heavy, Kay has been taking on more of the manly chores around here.
Last week, she mowed most of the yard. She even started the lawnmower by herself. I gave her a quick lesson on what to do, and she yanked that cord, picked herself up off the ground and yanked it one more time. That one did the trick. The girl was in a zone.
She’s been doing most of the driving, some of the vacuuming and occasionally works the TV remote. She folds the sheets, too. I hate to fold sheets. Fitted sheets should be disposable, you ask me.
And, as you have gathered, Kay is making at least 90 percent of the decisions around this place. How long will that last? Who knows? At some point, I will have to put my foot down. – “Okay, darling, from now on I’m driving this team of mules.” or “Sweetpea, there’s a new sheriff in town, and he’s not you.”
More likely, it will go something like – “Uh, darling, would you go back to tricking me into doing what you want? I know it sounds ridiculous, but I need to believe that my opinion holds sway. As of now, I have no sway. I’m swayless. Now, I’m going to forget about the $164 you spent on your small tomato garden. What I want is to reclaim my manhood. It got tossed with my sway.”
Kay will likely say something like, “Well, why didn’t you say something? Tell you what, I’m going to go shopping this evening to get you a new T-shirt. Maybe two. Might pick me up a pair shoes while I’m at it. Okay?” – That’s more like it.
$20 plant with a billion tomatoes on it.