Apron:

Try one on. You might like it.

But remember, this is supposed to be work, so quell the sudden urge to pirouette around the place.

If you feel that the sight of your wearing an apron might raise an eyebrow amongst some of your macho cohorts, maybe hanging wallpaper is not for you. Maybe you should hire me. But don't expect any pirouettes.

If your neighbour doesn't have a measly apron, move to a more affluent neighbourhood. (HINT: when choosing a more affluent neighbourhood, look for nicely trimmed lawns. This is an excellent yardstick with which to gauge your success in borrowing reputable tools: a pristine lawn = well-running lawn mower = conscientious owner = garageful of great tools to borrow.

Two pockets in any one apron are sufficient. It should be made of fairly stiff canvas. If it's one of those limpoid promotional giveaways with some brand name on it, use it anyway - all it needs is a good breaking-in.

Glue-laden hands will soon turn that floppy puppy into a hard and mysterious substance unknown to man. The stiffness will now let you hang up your knife with one hand, without having to grasp the pocket edge with the other.

See?
Already you are doing half the work, and in half the time! And just think what your free hand can be doing now!
And with an extra hand, you never have to squeeze more smokes into less time.

To identify your nicely-broken-in apron as a 'non-launderable item', hang it in the garage next to your hunting pants.

Tray:

While man's best friend busts a move on your neighbour's ankle, make use of this diversion to whistle over and grab one of his white plastic flower boxes.

Dump the dirt in their garden. Rinse before use.

Later, when petunias come up instead of parsley, blame global warming.