Right now, the grass in our front yard is high. Yes, it is. I could cut it. I could. But I am choosing instead to focus on my family. Sean is recovering from hip surgery, the kids have things to do, and so the grass is growing higher and higher; and I really don’t care.
I guess when it starts prohibiting the mail person from shoving mail in our mailbox, perhaps I will then crank up the lawnmower, give it some gas and oil, and push it around the perimeter.
Till then, I say—let the grass grow, green and long and beautiful.