>> Monday, May 7, 2012
Mowing grass is like shaving your legs: once you start, you have to keep on doing it.
Every spring I put it off as long as possible (mowing---not shaving) but last week when it got knee-high, I knew the time had come.
About the last thing I wanted to do on a beautiful Sunday afternoon was mow, but the weather forecast left little hope for the rest of the week: I was out of options. Even turned down a dinner invitation just to stay home and act like a responsible adult.
I’m very fortunate to have a built-in helper next door (Handy Guy) that is more than willing to take cash in exchange for repairs, maintaining my mowers, and plowing the driveway in the winter.
He had gotten the rider all serviced and ready to go so I expected that I could just hop on and zip through my small lawn in the usual forty-five minutes.
Handy Guy had warned me that the battery wasn’t holding a charge. I poo-pooed him and under his skeptical gaze, turned the key.
He charged it for an hour. Still dead.
So off to Wal-Mart I went, slithering in a side door so no one would see me in my yard attire. Soon I was home where Handy Guy installed and in no time, I was off, all cylinders ablaze...
Or so I thought.
After just a few rounds, the mower coughed, let out a sputter, and eventually died. Intervention by Handy Guy left him muttering about the air filter, blockage, and dirt in the carburetor.
My patience was wearing thin as the normally small task had dragged on for several hours and the lawn still looked like a farmer’s field.
Handy Guy said he could work his mechanical magic, but not until the following weekend. I could practically hear the grass growing and began to formulate a viable excuse for the Neighborhood Services Manager (better known as the Yard Police.)
Unable to come up with anything believable, I grabbed the push mower in hopes of tidying the front yard and diverting attention from the back.
I was just getting started when Handy Guy came sweeping into my yard on his rider that’s the same size as my car.
My hero on a John Deere!
He made quick work of the foot-tall grass, apparently feeling sorry for me. Or my ranting had frightened him (he wouldn’t even take any money…just nodded and zoomed away…)
Being a clueless female has its advantages.
There are nice people in the world that will lend a hand.
And most important: NEVER turn down a dinner invitation.