Musings & the Suburbs

On weekends I see the neighbourhood husbands mowing their lawns and washing their cars. (Does that sound sexist? It is always the men I see mowing and buffing but I’ve witnessed plenty of women tending to the gardens if that helps). 

I wonder if they really need to do those things?
Or, are these jobs distractions that buy them solace and a few stolen hours away from their families?
Or, are they doing it because there are only so many hours you can spend with one hand on a beer, the other down your pants watching football?

Until six months ago, I lived close to the city where people’s homes were exponentially smaller and there was more going on – so it seemed to me that people went out and did more on the weekends beyond clipping their lawns and washing their windows.

Last Saturday afternoon, a water pipe burst in our street. Groups of people must have stood around for easily over an hour, watching it and catching up on neighbourhood gossip. I went out there for a bit, chatting to a couple of nice neighbours, but after a while the small talk began to bore the shit out of me and once the Water Board guy showed up, I felt embarrassed that we had nothing better to do than stand around watching water pissing from the ground. Even if it was the truth. (I'm glad I managed to restrain myself from posting a photo of it to Facey and Instagram). 

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