Why?

This morning I spent 40 of the stupidest minutes of my life watering the sidewalk strip. In my neighborhood, as in so many others, the strip is owned by the city but the joy of maintaining it is all mine. Since it hasn't rained in what seems like an eternity, and since it's still toasty warm as fall arrives in central North Carolina (think 85 - 90 every day), I decided I'd better water. And when I water, I think. Today I thought, "Why?" 

Why is watering grass so boring? Watering my garden is a zen-like experience, yet watering the grass is a bore and a chore. Why? 

Speaking of chores, why am I out here watering the grass when I should really be inside vacuuming or, better yet, earning a living?   

Why plant zoysia if you have to water it anyway? And why did I choose now to worry that the grass is dying? Why wasn't I out watering in July?

Why is it always so hot here?  

Why do the neighbors keep planting fescue? It's guaranteed to fail. Why do people keep doing things they know will fail? 

Why did I decide to leave the "Delta Snow" phlox in my garden this year? I pulled out everything else the deer eat, but left the phlox, which was duly eaten. Why did I do that?  

Why did they line this street with oak trees? I can't go outside these days without being hit on the head with an acorn or dive-bombed by a caterpillar. Why couldn't they plant maples?    

Why is my neighbor using a rider mower for his 10 x 30 lawn?

Why must everyone here use a leaf blower? Does no one own a rake? And why do all the landscapers show up just as I'm sitting down on my front porch? ​​It's "Gentlemen, Start Your Engines" from 5 - 7 on this block.  Why can't I enjoy conversation and a glass of wine on my front porch without being bombarded by noise and pollution? Is that too much to ask? Why doesn't the world revolve around me? Why? 

Where was I? Oh yes. I was watering. Watering and thinking.