Sam said I had to help him hose the back yard, as it smelt like piss as he sat out on the veranda on the wicker chairs. (Now that Buddy is old with a dodgy knee, he isn’t so diligent about going up the stairs to the back part of the garden to his usual pissoir)
I wasn’t keen, I was lying on the couch, what can I say? “Just hose it.”
“You need to hose while I scrub with the broom.”
“Nah.”
“Come on,” he said. “Help me.”
“Nah,” I said. “It doesn’t need two people.”
“Come on.”
“Nah,” I said. “I’m comfortable.”
“Come on, help me,” he said. “It won’t take long.”
“Do you mean you just want me to hold the hose?”
“Yes.”
“Oh okay,” I said. I sooooo didn’t want to.
He got the broom and I got the hose. He instructed me how to use the hose. (how to use a hose? 😕) He swept.
The hose reel, windy thingy, was facing the wrong way and I couldn’t pull the hose out, so I turned to adjust the direction of the reelly wheels, it took me a couple of seconds, and when I turned back Sam was standing as stiff as a board dripping with water.
I hadn’t watched where I was pointing the hose. “Oops.”
“Do not laugh,” he said.
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