I've talked about the disastrous state of our "yard" before. Today, we finally had time, motivation, and manual labour to get some of the weeds under control. The Guy is planning to start the fence tomorrow, so we needed to get things so he could reach where the fence would go.
With three people, two full sets of gloves (with special plastic palms to avoid thistle sticks and possibly flame damage), we set off to pull the weeds. Weeds which before were 4 feet thistles in full bloom over 8000 square feet of our lot. Of course, two weeks later, they are 5 feet tall and in full seed (I'm not even kidding. We measured. It was almost as tall as me at 5'10 and 3/4"!)
After three hours, 5 bottles of water, and numerous interruptions from our cute little neighbour girl "Look at me bounce on the trampoline! Did you see that?", we finally made our way through the brush.
Hours later, my hands are still raw. My blisters have popped. My hip keeps popping out of joint and my chest is sunburned (just the part that was showing... nothing scandalous.) I am heading to bed and I know that, if The Guy asks me to pick up anything tomorrow, I may have to beat him with my cane.