I am so tired of walking on nuts. I’m tired of hearing them flop and fall all over the place. I’m tired of a constant barrage of nuts trying to dent the car.

I’m tired of my ankles turning because of the nuts. I’m tired of not being able to mow over all the nuts and fling them towards someone else’s yard.

Everywhere I turn, it’s nuts, nuts, nuts.

I can’t even walk without stepping on nuts and tripping.

I’m reminded of a fall drive we once took, when the kids were small. We drove past a farm, and as usual slowed down so the kids could see the animals. In this case, pigs. Huge pigs. Huge male pigs. Huge male pigs who could hardly walk. And why, you might ask, couldn’t the huge male pigs walk around in their pen?

Same reason nobody can walk around in this yard. They kept stepping on their darn nuts.

The kids still talk about that trip. Well, not the TRIP, per se, but the sights. That one, in particular.

We used to have the same problem with balls, but that, like this, was purely seasonal.

Bring it on, Google.