It's not you. It's me. It's my fault.
When you came into my life, you were so lush and green, and bursting with sod-ful innocence. You made me want to be the kind of man who could take care of you and nurture you. In return, I looked forward to years of beholding your verdant beauty. Our relationship would bloom!
Relationships take effort though. A buttload of effort, apparently. :(
This open letter is my apology to you, Lawn. When you were innocently planted into my backyard, and I promised my wife that I could care for you all by my bad self, I was maybe a little bit wrong. I thought that our relationship was different and unique and that we could survive on love alone, instead of all that water and fertilizer nonsense. That turned out to be a bit naive perhaps. My bad.
I knew things had taken a turn for the worse a few weeks ago, when you were barely visible under all the oxalis. You looked so helpless.
Thankfully, some sunshine came along and dried out the evil oxalis. Once it began to wither, I sprang into action. I hacked through the dead oxalis, eager to rescue you. I cut, and raked, and stuffed armfuls of dead weeds into the garbage. I couldn't wait to see you again!
As it turns out, however, I was a little late, and you were a little dead.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm really sorry. So so so sorry. But I haven't given up. I look forward to resurrecting you and then letting you sort of die all over again. That's just the kind of relationship we have, I guess, the kind where you die a lot.
I have learned one thing though. The reason why the proverbial grass is always greener on the other side of the fence is because my neighbors aren't lazy bastards like me.