That’s not to say there’s a thing wrong with yard work. If that’s your thing, you’ll hear no derision from me.
The problem is me doing yard work. I have nothing against golf, either. But the day you see me paying $150 to chase a white plastic ball into a white plastic rabbit hole is the day you’ll know that something has gone completely haywire with my brain cells.
So it’s official, as of the autumn of 2009. I am doing lawn work. I have lost the will to live.