A trickle of sweat runs down my spine as I snap the last wet shirt and pin it to the loaded clothesline. My sunglasses help dull the blinding blue brilliance of the cloudless sky. Stretching my aching arms, I savor the summer scented breeze. Sun warmed grass between my toes, fresh laundry on the line…this is the perfect day. This is a picnic day. I see a pitcher of sweet tea, a basket of food and a good book in my future.
Then I see my nemesis. A black stare leaves me cold. The one that reminds me of our impending showdown. The one that requires me to wear socks and shoes. On my perfect picnic day. I glare back, defiant. I will win this battle.
And then I will enjoy the sweet scent of freshly mowed grass with my perfect picnic. It smells like victory.
The pic is mine. This is dedicated to the Decepticon that lives in my carport and makes me battle it to get the lawn mowed every week. And because I'd rather mow the lawn then shovel the driveway again.