Front yard back mishap

A couple nights ago, Kris announced he was going to start cleaning up the yard, starting with the front yard, and moving to the back (because the neighbors can't really see the backyard when they drive by).

I immediately resisted. I have plans! I have goals! I have a beautiful vision of the glory of the front yard! I can't have him mucking about in the front yard, working against the shining light of my front yard dream.

Or something like that.

In reality, I pouted.

Why do you want to change the front yard? Just leave it for me, I'll fix it. When I'm home. Next month.

No, he couldn't do that. He was embarrassed at all the weeds growing in the front yard. He wanted to clean it up, make it look good.

"The weeds are green! It's like free grass!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Uh... yeah... Yes, yes, I am."

So, we agreed he could clean out the various parts of the front yard, removing parts I was planning on removing anyway. I reluctantly agreed to allow him to give me a push on the way to the glorious new front yard, full of blueberries, and marigolds, and trees, Trees, TREES!

The next night, he threw out his back.

He did it working out, away from me. I wasn't at class that night. He stepped funny and tweaked his back. The next day it was worse.

This morning, he couldn't put his shoes on without help.

Coincidence, sure. Now he can't work on the front yard when I'm gone for the weekend.

But, part of me can't help but wonder if in some way, he threw out his back so that I'd win.

He loves me that much.