Brooke here:

It’s not.  Weeding isn’t sexy.  Sexy in the sensationalism way, I mean; who am I to judge if your fantasy world involves killing dandelions?  But it’s not fake-sexy, it’s really not fake-sexy, and neither is housecleaning or raking or leaf-blowing or any of the hundreds of maintenance tasks that you have to do after (or during… always during) the repairs are made, the lawn established, the pool covered for the winter…

I washed a dog today.  He tolerated it, with occasional grumpings.

It’s darned hard to blog about routine maintenance.  Such things are the polar opposite of interesting.

But it’s fall, and the fall has brought the leaves, and the leaves have summoned rakes, so instead of carving out brick pathways with our bare hands, we have Brown up on the roof and elbow-deep in a gutter.  Or me, slapping on a fresh coat of Bona in lieu of stripping and resealing the wood floors.

(Refinishing wood floors does count as sexy but it is one of the worst, most labor-intensive tasks for a home owner that doesn’t involve water damage.  I’ll tackle it one day, but it ain’t gonna be today.)

The bathroom is almost done, however, so as soon as I find the motivation to spend two hours near a ceiling with a touchup brush, that will be all kinds of sexy.  And I’ve started one last landscaping project before it gets cold; we’re putting in a moss garden in an alcove under one of the cascade Japanese maples. More on that later this week.

Go forth and be sexy!