This weekend was kinda rough. Last week we had a tree limb fall off of it's big happy host tree and on to our entire back yard, taking the power lines with it. (I'll tell you what a party is--live wires in your back yard! w00t!)
Anyway, it seemed that everyone from the power company guys to the tree guys to the neighbor man had some snarky comment for our LandLady, and it's not what you would think. Every stranger to enter out backyard made some statement as to the condition of our grass. Yes, I know it's long. Ha Ha, your kid would get lost back here. I GET it. If you'd be so kind as to cut the very large tree limb up and remove it from our yard, I will mow it. And no, I don't need to borrow your chainsaw.
So, this weekend I mowed the lawn. At least I tried. What started out as a pleasent enough afternoon of a movie, a light lunch and plenty of water in prepration, turned into some cheezy B-movie horror flick.
To begin with, waist-high weeds and a mulching push mower are not exactly a match made in heaven. Blisters ensued. Also, the mower clogged. At which point I turned it off, and (really, this part is genius) ran my fingers along the blade. Yes. Ran. My. Fingers. Along. The. Blade. This was followed by me starring at the blood dripping from the tip of my finger. I went into the house to clean and bandage my wound, was hit by the frigid air of the blessed AC, and proceeded to the bathroom. So, I'm running my hands under the water and this bitch just won't quit bleeding. All the blood in combination with the temperature change, and I nearly passed out. Bathroom tile cool and good, being verticle bad.
Finally, I recover enough to decently clean my finger, and I'm reaching for the anticeptic-that slips out of my hand, bounces off the counter, launches my glasses into air to smack on to the tile and snap in two. They snapped in two!
Now, I'm mad. The lawn will not win! I go back outside to finish the job. And I'm out of gas. Damn you, unseasonably wet summer causing lush green fast growing lawn!
3 days ago