Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.
This week was tougher than most.
When my parents visited last month, my dad suggested that maybe the buildup of dirt and wood chips around the foundation of our home wasn't the best thing for the nearly new siding. And that maybe our basement would have more light if the windows weren't all covered up by said dirt and crap.
I figured he knew what he was talking about, but I just filed that information into a
big. getting bigger. ginormous. little folder called "do in fall". You know, since there are lilies planted in most of the spots and I have so few so many of those.
So, you know me. On Thursday, I did NOT take on the project of digging out the basement windows which was really a project for
people who care about landscaping more that just little ole me.
It started out well. I was placing the wood chips into one of those 55 gallon black bags that, according to the Fleet Farm clerk should only be used on a farm...hmmm. Okay, I got sick of that quickly and as you can see, just started making piles of chips and then piles of dirt. And more piles. And more.
Three windows, you know. Each covered by about 3 inches of hard packed wood chips and then about 6" of dirt, some of which was backing up under the siding. Each. Dear god.
Oh, and I did NOT leave said piles for Jon to view when he arrived home. His light-hearted quip was "Either we need an exterminator, or you've been working outside." ha. ha. (So funny I forgot to laugh.)
And for the record, I did NOT count that as my intentional exercise for the day nor did I end up with gigantic mosquito bites in unmentionable places. (How DOES that happen?!?!)
I also did NOT find the following treasures in the dirt while working: a spade (the garden kind, not the card suit), styrofoam chunks, two metal rods and two 4" pots, one of which was labeled "peppermint". Burried IN the dirt. Not me.
Between the two of us this week, Jon and I did NOT end up digging up most of what the previous owners of our home had planted in the yard. Bushes and everything. Not us.
I'm fairly certain that my mother-in-law, who was born
in the 1800's with a green thumb will most assuredly NOT have a panic attack when she sees what we've done.
That old "my house, my rules" thing.