I Thought My Suburb Would Be Overrun by Now
Maybe it’s time I head outside and mow my lawn. I fear my neighbors are losing patience, as they spend sweltering weekends cutting, trimming, and weeding, resulting in perfectly green, manicured grass soft enough for bare feet. Conversely, my “lawn” is a waist-high amalgam of crabgrass, chickweed, creeping charlie and dandelions. Village inspectors keep driving…