![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyJXDZH53p7LRlN3bEfGl1uawq5sX83i3J3HAPawf0J5DcvjjvfgLPO374Lbqc_oc6B_lo23HpnC214CuOUoSIusjygNITv2kkJnnGcuKAtkSKf9XIzUsJgykQ2U-G6DbFzErxspF6DE/s320/dead+lawn+001.jpg)
I feel bad about my lawn. Truly, I do. If you saw my lawn, you’d feel bad about it, too. You might not say anything, because you’re too nice, but you’d be thinking bad things about my lawn, I just know it. Before water restrictions, my lawn used to be pretty and green, but now it has ugly brown age spots and dead patches. My lawn looks thirsty and depressed all the time. If my lawn could talk, it would say that twice a week just isn’t enough. My lawn has needs, too, you know. It wants what it can’t have – more water. But if I give it more water, I’ll be fined by the DWP. So I must suffer.