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On a mission, as long as the rain holds off

It's not often it rains here. The terrain is a brittle brown and the earth cracks with thirst. Yesterday it pelted down, literally out of the blue. As suddenly as it came it, went but the dark clouds still hang high. I'm normally not a slow learner, but I now know that if the rain soaks the garden, I can weed it easily. Today, that's my mission. I'll turn the soil in the front garden and stop the young neighbours from hanging over the fence thinking I'm growing something illegal in between the bushes. Although, luckily, they have been preoccupied with a garden birth. They invited all their friends who bought casks of cardboard plonk and sat around providing a running commentary about the birth. I had a quick look through the fence. Their soft natured loppy black labrador had 12 puppies. I thought she was a festively large dog. Not realising her delicate condition, a few days ago, I'd yelled out "loves her food, huh?" "Nah, she's up the duff" he snorted back. "Oh, kwelllll" I trilled, trying to fit in. I backed off, taking my size 7s out of my mouth before I left, who would be me?  Anyway, pitch fork, bucket, gloves, knee pads, insect spray and high heels ready, I'm outta here, man.