Well, we’re still here. We haven’t yet become slaves to our eight-legged overlord.
I haven’t seen him (or her) today. So there’s time yet. She usually makes an appearance in the evening, scuttling across the carpet or parkouring off the furniture. So that’s something to look forward to. Especially as it’s the right level of light to not be able to see her until she’s basically crept up and scared the shit out of you.
So there’s that.
In other news, though, that bastard privacy bush is finally out of the ground.
I have no doubt that the extensive root system runs for miles still, I need to attack further with a fork. But the stump is gone. And it took bloody ages. Just me and the new, sharp, pointy shovel. Sweating. And swearing. For ages.
And then me and the aforementioned things plus the long-handled loppers so I could cut through baby-arm sized roots as I came across them.
And then me pulling on it like I was the farmer in The Enormous Turnip, expecting neighbours to come flocking to help me pull it out.
But they didn’t. And I did it all myself. And the bastard thing is gone.
But like I said before, I cannot even imagine what it was expecting to happen that required it to have such massive root ball. It’s like it had the same evolutionary quirks as nose and ear hair in men. Because what is it that we’re expecting to go into our noise, or ears, in old age that requires us to have that much hair in there? That bush was exactly the same. It was one of those things that you start, but really wish you’d known what you getting yourself into beforehand.
I mean, yeah it was an old, established bush so it’s bound to have happened, but honestly. There were times when I was pulling roots out I kept expecting to see things topple over in the front room.
Nothing did. Our house still seems to have the same structural integrity now as it did when the bush was in place. Which isn’t necessarily a good thing, but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt.
There’s more to do. We need to excavate the once-hidden and hitherto unknown flowerbed I found in the front garden and see what that’s all about. Tidy stuff up. Edge the lawn a bit and then reseed the thing so it will grow all green and luscious like on the adverts. Instead of the rather barren lawn we have at the moment.
But for now, what we’ve really got, sitting just below the front room window, is a lovely inviting hole for cats to competitively poo in.
It’s almost tempting to put the bush back.