The Sprinklers

We have an old house in an old peanut-butter-and-jelly neighborhood.

Our neighbors tell us that before we moved in, this house was the Eyesore of the Neighborhood. (I know. Sad, but true. I'll dig up some "before" pictures of the house one day and blog about it.)

Slowly and tenderly, for the past ten years, we have worked on This Old House and turned it into our home. We lovingly call it Casa de La Loma.

When we moved in, the landscaping (if you can call it that) was just freshly laid sod that we had to hand water because they laid it right over the sprinkler system. (Did I mention it was the Eyesore of the Neighborhood?)

So every evening, Eric and I would go out and take turns watering the lawn. Holding a hose and just aiming it at grass had a zen-like effect on me, and I would work out in my head where I would plant the roses (that would all have fabulous names), and I would pray, and I would mentally design the white picket fence that my husband would one day build for me. =D

"Maybe we should just get sprinklers."

We came to that mutual conclusion after dinner one evening when we were both tired and were making a rock-paper-scissors decision about whose turn it was to water the lawn. (By the way, I really just like to say the word, "sprinklers." It sounds whimsical to me, somehow.)

Anyway, we got sprinklers.

But we didn't get a timer for the sprinklers, which is a quick and easy set up in this day and age, but that's not important right now.

(A timer! Why didn't we add a timer? *slaps forehead*)

Let me tell you why....

This forces us to go outside every day to turn them on, right?