Santa Claus in Summer

Last-minute weeding in the yard before guest arrival today finds me in the front yard, bending over with gloves and gardening tools. Don was asleep in his room.  

An hour later I hear the front door open. From a bent over position, I look towards the door between my elbow and rib cage. I watch Don trip over the front door entrance onto the porch where he mumbles something unintelligible towards me. Now, I am required to fully stand up, brush sweat, dirt and hair off my face and ask for a repeat. All I hear is something about Santa Claus. 

Kristy: Are you seriously talking to me right now about Santa Claus in August? 

Don: Yeah, Santa Claus. 

Kristy: If you want some sunshine, I would prefer you go back upstairs and sit down on the upper deck.

Don: What are you doing? Stealing plants out of this yard?

Kristy: What am I doing? I’m doing your job out here under the category of yard maintenance. Let’s throw in garbage collection, watering plants and planters up to a 100 feet from the faucet and leaf blowing the latest junk that blew in from God knows where. Like a big piece of white styrofoam. Could be someone’s boogey board bitten by a shark. I did see the Coast Guard helicopter flying in this area yesterday. Better question is what are you doing?

Don: Nothin’. 

Kristy: Exactly.

Note to Self: Santa Claus can kiss my ………