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So I finally pulled out the very last possible vegetable out of the garden–the cauliflower, which has quietly grown all year and was too yucky-looking to keep–and removed the stakes and trellises and yanked the big plants and prepared to spread newspaper and mulch. Of course I don’t have the newspaper. Or the mulch. The newspaper was supposed to come from the mothers, and they promised me lots and lots, but they told Eric last week that they only have half a bag. Maybe because I kept forgetting to bring it home with me. And the mulch was supposed to be partly the lawn clippings (and between the falling leaves and Eric not having mown for two months, it was going to be a lot) but he ran out of daylight and stamina and switched to the “mulch” function instead, which means all my lovely mulch is spread across the yard.
So yeah. I’m considering going around on recycling day and collecting people’s newspapers, but you know I really won’t. Same with collecting leaves (though we have leaf pickup by the city here, and I stayed home one morning with a fever and left for work around eleven, and had to drive around an eight-foot-tall pile of leaves at the end of the road) to use in place of mulch. I’m so…so…indifferent. I even got the first seed catalogs a couple of days ago and was only vaguely interested. Partly it’s the baby and related changes in my day, partly it’s the fact that we’re planning to move next year, but still: ugh!