The dirt pile that is now me

One of the lovely (in the most sarcastic way possible) things about Phoenix is that no one variety of grass will survive here year-round. In order to have nice green lawns when it’s too hot outside to enjoy them, we get to deal with brown, icky, not-alive-enough-to-hold-the-dirt-in grass right now, when it is 72 degrees and perfect outside.

The reason this matters is that I spend a third of my time at work each day outside with small children running around and spewing dust with every step they take. It looks like a real-life Peanuts cartoon, and it means that I feel like one big dirt pile. Lovely. I feel like allergies to dirt are developing as I speak. Maybe I should get one of those face masks people in Asia used during the SARS crisis….color recommendations, anyone?

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