Because my husband and I are absolute geniuses, we bought a manual push mower to take care of our lawn. We thought it was a good idea because it’s carbon neutral. (Notice how I seriously wrote that like the words carbon neutral have ever come out of my mouth to describe anything.) It would also help us get the exercise we need to avoid becoming giant blobs of quivering flesh that can’t even walk as far as the front door.
Let’s just say that the whole manual mower thing didn’t quite work out. We’d take turns mowing the lawn. I’d mow the back and he’d mow the front because I didn’t want the neighbors to see me struggling to push that stupid machine. As far as exercise goes, I haven’t noticed a difference.
After three months of using that lawn mower my arms are still trying to grow bat wings. That’s not entirely true. If I were sprouting actual bat wings that would be kind of cool, and I’m sure I’d get to appear on the local news. My arms are continuing to develop a hanging mass of flesh that wiggles all around when I wave. Eventually, it might become so long and droopy that I could hit myself in the face with it. I’ve done pushups to try to remedy the situation, but after doing roughly six pushups over the course of three weeks still no change. This post isn’t about my arms though, so let me stop.
At some point our mower stopped being quite so mowy. Maybe it’s because the grass thickened up for the summer. Maybe the blades just got too dull. Maybe it decided to go on strike. I don’t know why it happened, all I know is one day it started taking me twice as long to cut the grass, and the darn thing refused to cut some of the grass at all.
None of that matters now because some friends were nice enough to let us borrow their electric mower and now cutting the lawn is like a game of Russian roulette where the extension cord is the gun and the mower blades are the bullets, or maybe that should be the other way around. Can mowing the lawn be any scarier? Don’t I fall down enough in my life already? The orange extension cord trailing along after the mower doesn’t seem to think so that’s for sure.
Now mowing is strictly my husband’s responsibility because my stepson and I can’t deal with extension cords and sharp objects at once. Just thinking about it makes my brain short circuit. Now every time I hear my husband start the lawn mower I sit in the house and worry that he’s going to electrocute himself.
Photo by r.nial.bradshaw