I should have taken action when I heard the sound of the weed whacker, but I was busy..
hopeful that my husband remembered, and was honoring, the golden rule we established after he (“accidentally”) cut down my grapefruit tree.
That same golden rule we re-established after he stripped the trunk of my Bismark Palm, and then reviewed once again for clarity right after he “thinned out” our stately oak from a beautiful open umbrella shape
into something more like this:
The golden rule is simple:
DON’T DO ANY LANDSCAPING WITHOUT TALKING TO ME FIRST.
What’s so hard to understand about that?
I’ve come to realize that the problem isn’t him forgetting the rule or ignoring the rule, it’s much more simple..and yet more complex..it’s simply about MOMENTUM.
My husband will gas up the whacker, blower, mower, chain saw, stuff his ear buds into their respective canals, blast his music and it’s off to the races. Success is measured by how long you can go before you’ve got to cut it, trim it, mow it or whack it again.. and the project can’t possibly be finished until Bohemian Rhapsody is over and if that means chopping down a blooming row of hibiscus, spraying toxic weed killer all around my basil or trimming our neighbor’s bushes, so be it!
My husband is a list driven man and progress on Pluto is measured differently than it is on planet earth, that’s just a fact. Don’t think for one minute that he doesn’t march right into the den after receiving his verbal lashing from yours truly and put a check mark next to ‘landscaping’ on some tiny, rumpled piece of paper.
If you are married to an engineer you just have to embrace the fact that their brains are not wired like yours..
..and that most things will eventually (hopefully) grow back.