Domestic bliss

I'm such a bad parent. I let the grass do pretty much whatever it wants. It's a bit enabling, I suppose, but I feel like I have to make allowances for youth, ya know? But starting tomorrow I'll set healthy boundries and a new sprinkler system that, along with weed control, will hopefully muster some can-do spirit in that spoiled fescue. If I don't encourage some moral rectitude now when she's young... well let's just say that the neighbor's lawn is in some rock band. And I can just see those two eloping in Vegas in a tattooed, drug-fueled stunt-marriage designed to piss me off.

Not on my watch, missy. No siree bob.