come on baby rake my yard

What kind of raker are you? I bet you didn’t know there are two types. I discovered the distinction on Saturday when we finally broke down and raked our lawn. It was ridiculous. I have never seen so many leaves. We were swimming in at least three inches everywhere on our lawn. Raked up, that equals enough piles to make a school bus of kids happy. Anyway, we’re slacker rakers. We get the majority of the leaves but don’t stress over a few left here or there. As soon as we finished and went inside, our neighbors, Dee and Virgil (the noisy boingers), went out, grabbed their rake, and started meticulously grooming their lawn. They didn’t rake— they preened; they styled; they coaxed every last leaf out of their grass. Matt and I watched from our kitchen window with shame. I looked at our grass. It was still sprinkled with soppy leaves and looked nothing like the perfect, spotless yard next door. And our shame did not end there. We still hadn’t bought leaf bags, and Matt refused to use up all of our kitchen garbage bags. Rather than run out to the store right then, we let them sit in piles overnight. Sunday afternoon, Virgil popped over to offer Matt a few leaf bags. Next year I vow to buy a yard vacuum.