Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Mow-zy On Down
It is now quite obvious that a young female has moved in on the block. All you have to do is look at the lawn. The last two trims my lawn has received were courtesy of my father, who made special trips to my house to complete this chore. I would slowly and subtly tiptoe away as he started the gas and tried to instruct me on proper lawn care. Truthfully it seemed like a mundane subject that I took absolutely no interest in, and immediately decided that my Dad would have to continue making the seven minute drive to my house after work about every other week. Until today.
You know you're becoming a mature adult when you care about what your neighbors think of your greens. The slightly overgrown grass and random dandelions were starting to resemble the horror of pilling on a favorite sweater. It had to be manicured. My only experience with a lawn mower prior to tonight was just a month ago as a volunteer. Someone literally handed me an already prepped and running mower and I just pushed. I lasted behind the bar for just a few back-and-forths before I was relieved of my duties to help cook lunch, another one of my domestic strong suits...
So there I stood this evening. Me, the mower, and a lot of pulls and switches. Where did we go from here? Well, once I eventually figured out not very far without a little gas in the tank, we went to the backyard. Around the corners. Through some thick brush on the side of the house. And finally we trekked it to the front. Just me, the mower, and the setting sun. It was a proud enough moment just getting the mower to start, but an even prouder one shutting the appliance down after trimming the whole lot. That is until I looked out onto my busy street and saw every car waiting at the intersection looking in bewilderment at me and my lawn. Or shall I call it an an abstract work composed of grass and earth textiles? As I tried to look oblivious, a neighbor walked by and asked "How'd you get this job?" My response: "Lost a bet." It seemed most acceptable. I mean, what kind of homeowner is incapable of mowing their own grass? As I walked the mower back into my garage the answer suddenly appeared right in front of my nose: The kind of homeowner that cuts her whole lawn while the mower bag sat in the garage unfulfilling its purpose.