d. i. notsomuch.

I really, really, really wanted this post to be all bad ass and proud with a shit eating grin about omg I'm so awesome I don't need help from anyone look what I just did! It's not going to be at all. (yet another jinx I've put on myself this week.)
So, as previously mentioned, I had every intention of "Edward scissor handing" my bushes out front and all of those extremely exciting things. Well, I woke up this fine Saturday morning and mapped out my day. Start laundry, go to Lowe's to buy cord thingy for the hedge trimmer my dad gave me and possibly some plants and come home and just get after it.
I felt so badass going to Lowe's head held high. I walked in like I owned it and "no, I don't need any help" and of course wasn't asked cause I looked like I knew where I was going and what I was getting. I scoffed a little bit at the ladies looking lost and pushed my cart along. Around the store. Three times. I admitted defeat and asked a question and was given a pretty obvious answer, of course, I wanted to reply that I just needed to know where that aisle was not where the thing was located, but I didn't. It was kinda like stereotypical role reversal like how men don't like to ask for directions because apparently they are supposed to be wired with an internal GPS, I just wanted to feel like I could figure it out, I mean it's a store for crying out loud I'm supposed to know how to navigate it with my eyes closed even though I've never stepped foot in it alone and not following my father to the electrical aisle.
I came home plant-less because I just didn't know what I wanted and plugged that baby in ready to go to town. Only not so much. I made my shrubs look like the back of jj's head that time I cut it so self-confidently one handed on the porch with scissors I probably had since second grade or whatever grade it is that you get to stop using scissors with all the protective plastic and a blade like plastic cutlery. I digress. They looked like shit is what I'm trying to say. And after almost cutting my toes off, don't ask, I made a phone call to my dad asking for tricks of the trade. His response, "it's just like cutting hair." My point exactly.
So, I trimmed them down as evenly as possible and my dad offered to come over another day to help me and by help me I mean my participation will be "do you need another cup of coffee, dad?" This is strike two, if you're keeping tabs.
Next project, wash off patio. Simple enough, right? My patio is disgusting. Kitty hair balls rolled in cig ash and god knows what else. Well, as it turns out, my patio doesn't exactly drain well and I ended up with about three inches of water with debris floating everywhere. I got flashbacks to hurricane Katrina clean up efforts (too soon?) and got my broom and swept the shit out. Once it dries in three weeks, it may look better, right?
So, the moral is, I'm feeling like a little defeated, clueless homeowner. Maybe I should've gotten up those Saturday mornings when my dad would weed eat or mow the patch of grass outside my bedroom window for an annoyingly long time to get me out of bed and gotten my hands dirty and picked up a few tricks of the trade. I only say that here because I know he doesn't read this and if you tell him, I swear to god I'll do something like really half assed to attempt to punish you.
I mean, I just really wanted to feel all bad ass and prove that "I got this," you know? This isn't leading to future love interest job requirements, I think anyone reading this with a shred of feminist thoughts has already rolled their eyes and gagged a little, but I mean, I can put together boxed furniture and check my oil too so stop judging me. I can feel it. I just would like a little help and if that takes me swallowing my pride a little and asking my dad to do it, so be it.
So, there. Turns out I'm not so independent, but maybe with a little help I will be. So contradictory.
So, now, I think I'll go get a beer and sit in the sun. Now, that I'm a pro at.