Today I broke the lawnmower. You can interpret the title of this post any which way you want: is the lawnmower moody? (yes) Am I moody? (yes) Is anyone else moody because of us? (yes)
I shouldn’t complain about the lawnmower, my sister gave it to us when they moved back to the west coast. But for the tiny property we have (compared to what she had when she was in Ontario) the lawnmower is
- too powerful
- too heavy
- too noisy
- too gas-sucking
- too smokey
- and too awkward
And now it has a bent blade. Because I drove over a metal pipe thingy that is visible when not covered by
grass weeds, and theoretically I should have known its general location since I almost drove over it before, but I was moody and wanted to get it done quickly because there was hardly any gas left in the tank and our spare tank was empty and it was getting hotter and, truth be told, this isn’t my favorite activity.
Plus none of the kids were around to delegate this to, and DH was working in the downstairs office, and the weather people said rain tomorrow…..so, it had to be me. And it had to be today because frankly, our property is starting to look like a bunch of gypsies live here, what with all the weeds and Chinese lantern plants that are taking over more every year. (I just mow over the stray ones. If you’re a plant lover, don’t fret, for every Chinese lantern I kill seven more will appear in its place in about 15 minutes.)
Once the lawnmower became unusable with the bent blade I had to take the weed-whacker to finish off the job. That and the manual lawnmower, which is fine to use when the grass is relatively short, and doesn’t have hidden mulch, sticks or stones all over it which tend to get stuck in the blades.
The job is not pleasant. It was fueling an already precarious mood, and by now the sun was out in full force. Also, the pool wasn’t covered and all the weed-whacked grass was getting into the water.
I kept taking breaks to complain to my friend on facebook (sorry Andrea) but then ventured out again to continue. Because if I don’t, and when the kids return, they will want to use the pool and all the un-raked
grass weeds will stick to their wet feet and end up in the pool and then I’ll have to start drinking.
But I kept at it. There is little more satisfying than sitting in a pretty, clean-looking backyard watching happy children play with cool beverage in hand (my hand, not theirs). This is my motivational factor to get back out there and grin and bear the cumbersome task.
But first I had to complain to someone. So there you go, internet. Enjoy.