This is one of those house-related entries you were promised and have been awaiting with bated breath. As common sense and common knowledge suggested, I got the nicest place I could comfortably afford. All things considered it’s a nice place indeed, thanks to a quarter century’s worth of outlandish and unwarranted generosity from my family. In fact, I bought it thinking I would not need to do anything for a few months at the very least. No small feat, given my perfectionism.

Well, since early June I’ve spent over a grand at Lowe’s and nearly as much at Home Depot. The front flowerbed sits higher than the sidewalk, so I put in edging blocks to keep the topsoil from washing away.

The grass directly behind (and south of) the house was dead (as opposed to the rest of the yard, which is only mostly-dead), which seemed a great excuse to turn the space into a flowerbed.

The deck, I realized, looked as if it hadn’t been stained or sealed since the house was built 12 years ago. And I wanted a grill. And some patio furniture.

One evening before I coughed up a wad of cash to have Sullivan Tree & Yard Service (their work is mediocre given the price – take your business elsewhere) trim the tree nearest the house, I was locked in an epic struggle with the garden hose and hose reel. I heard a small but frantic fluttering and could not find the source. Then, I looked up – there in the tree was a small grey bird with orange wing tips, hanging upside down. I worked my way up the (at most 25 foot tall) tree with my trusty side cutters and trimmed away whatever stringy plastic stuff the little guy was tangled in. For the first time ever, a use for my carefully honed tree-climbing skills!

And not the last time my neighbors will look outside and ask “What on earth is that boy doing?”

Since I still get home with a headache 2-3 days a week, I’ve been keeping up a steady regimen of afternoon naps. As a result, I’ve started a bad habit of night-time gardening. See, my Realtor is throwing a housewarming party this Saturday, which has compounded my desire for everything to be exactly the way I want it. The most ambitious project I’ve taken up called for turning the portion of the backyard that’s directly behind the house and adjacent to the deck into a flowerbed. Flower garden? I’m not sure if the designation is determined by size or, if so, what the limit would be.

Even when I don’t feel like laying down for an hour as soon as I get home from work, I also don’t feel like going straight to Lowe’s while it’s still 90. Thus I’ve found myself at Lowe’s a couple of times a week somewhere between dusk and closing time, which remains a fairly narrow window this time of year. By the time I wander a few circuits around the store and get everything I need, it’s well and truly dark, but that hasn’t necessarily stopped me from spreading topsoil or planting a flower or two. Even when I’ve “planned ahead” the fact that I do everything slowly means it’s after 9:00 by the time I decide it’s too dark to accomplish much more.

After about a week on The Flowerbed Project all I need to do is spread mulch, drive rebar to attach the trellis to, and find a glider swing. And then put the glider together, I guess. Tonight upon return from Lowe’s I went to water the flowers and even in the dark noticed that a couple of them looked pretty sorry. I stooped to see why they weren’t doing as well as the other plants, and the problem was that their leaves HAD BEEN EATEN. Bastardos!

And that’s how, roughly a month after purchasing my first home, I turned into Elmer Fudd. Certainly this is one more tick each for the Dog and Fence columns, but sadly the former requires the latter and the latter is crazy expensive.