I just want to apologize for the appalling state of my lawn. I mean, I didn't think it was too bad, but because you called the city to complain about the length, you clearly disagree.
I'm sorry that I don't have the money to pay someone else to take care of my lawn for me, like you do.
I'm sorry that I care about the environment and don't want to pump fertilizers and weed killers into the ground.
I'm sorry that I don't want to waste potable water by pouring it all over a useless plant that American society has bizarrely deemed to be some kind of status symbol, when there are people in the world for which water is a precious and rare resource.
I'm sorry that I live in an area where the soil is basically sand, and therefore more suited for growing weeds than grass.
I'm sorry that you don't know what a dandelion looks like, because if you did, you'd understand that the mutated monster weeds in my front yard are not dandelions, but some kind of hell-spawn intent on devouring the earth.
I'm sorry that my shitty push mower can't cut through the stems of the aforementioned hell spawn. All it can do is try to annoy them to death. So far this is not a winning strategy.
I'm sorry that you don't have the guts to come over here and tell me to my face that you don't like the way I keep my lawn, and that you found it necessary to tattle on me to the city, like a whiny little child.
I'm sorry I called you a whiny little child.
And finally, I'm sorry that you care so much. Your life must truly be devoid of meaning and joy.
PS - I cut the damn lawn. Except for the hell spawn, which I just pushed over.