Sod Off

I know we are in a drought, and a lawn is frowned upon, but I already own one that has a bare patch.

At the Home Depot, they sell rolls of sod grass. Each roll is about three feet by five feet and weigh about seventy pounds. I bought five rolls, the perfect amount to fix the problem.

I pulled the family SUV alongside the booth filled with sod rolls. When I opened the back hatch, I discovered that my kids had taken every inch of space with various things: a golf bag, biking helmets, wheels, a bike pump, and camping equipment. The list was endless. No worries, I’ll just put the grass in the passenger seat.

Hmmm, a glitch, the back door doesn’t stay open on its own anymore. Not to be deterred, I took a deep breath, reached over, and hoisted up the first roll while keeping the door open with my left foot. Suddenly I realized how unruly it was and much heavier than I anticipated. 

Seconds into this limbo dance, I surmised this was not a great idea. I was moving in slow motion. The sod roll began to unravel. I let go of the foothold on the car door to regain control of the roll. It was too late. The sod was unrolling down my body, and I couldn’t catch it. I lowered myself to the asphalt until I landed flat out in the parking lot with this roll of grass covering my body from my chin down to my feet. The weight of it pressed against me.

A man walked by and muttered loudly, “nice parking job.”

“Hey! There’s a person down here!” I shouted to no avail.

On this busy Saturday morning, men, women, children, and dogs walked around me, beside me, and barely missing my head. Ironically most were already looking down, focused on their cell phones. Have we become so oblivious to the world around us that we don’t notice a woman lying, covered in grass? Did they think I was a putting green in the parking lot?

And just like that. As. If. On. Cue. I looked up, and there was an old boyfriend.

“Leslie, is that you?” He asked, glancing down at me.

“Yes. It’s been a while.” I batted my eyelashes coquettishly.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No thanks, I’m good.” I was too embarrassed, “I’m doing a silent protest against global warming. Good to see you.” I lied on all counts.

“Take care.” He walked away.

Before I had any more unpleasant encounters, I slowly tried lifting the sod. I need to do more work on my core. It took some doing, but I finally got it off of me. But not without it leaving remnants of dirt all over my face and clothes.

From nowhere, a young man appeared wearing an orange vest, “Ma’am, do you need some help?” he asked me.

God, I hate being called ma’am!

Live with waffletude.

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