Wednesday, July 10, 2013

I'll Tell You Why I Mow the Lawn

I mow the grass for a few reasons. Reason number one is pretty needs to be done and I'm home way more than my husband is so I might as well just get it done. I learned a long time ago that if you want something done right now (as I always do), you better know how to do it yourself. Plus, it's a great workout. I can't walk on a treadmill in good conscious knowing that I could be walking behind my mower getting the yard done. Two birds, one stone.

I was roughly twelve years old when I first got acquainted with a lawn mower. I used to do a lot of babysitting for my aunt and she quickly learned that I loved responsibility and I was pretty reliable. One day, she was home and I was helping out at her house. Her small lawn needed mowing, so she started the mower, gave me a couple of pointers and left me to it. I figured out a pattern and the next thing you know, it was done and I felt a nice sense of accomplishment. She also taught me how to bake bread, pick fruit, and milk a goat among many other useful skills. She needed help and I don't think she cared if I did things perfectly, she just needed them done. I enjoyed being the big cheese that she could count on. Win-win.

When Dave and I were dating, Dave decided to start mowing lawns and doing a little snow removal to earn extra money while he was in school and only working a part time job. Who do you think his best and only employee was? You guessed it, me! So I can not only mow lawns like a champ, but I can also clear a snow covered driveway in no time at all (with or without a snow blower).

I mowed tons of lawns during the early years of our relationship, both on a riding mower and walking behind the push mower. Dave did all the weed eating, only because I struggle when it comes to managing that stupid pull starter on the trimmer. I still shy away from it to this very day. I've heard good things about the Ryobi electric start trimmer and I'd love to own one (A girl can dream, right?). It must also be said, that I was not paid for any of this work. Dave used the money to buy new equipment and an engagement ring for yours truly. I wasn't "given" a diamond ring, so much as I "earned" it, free and clear.

That last paragraph makes me sound like an idiot and Dave sound like a dick. Both are probably a tiny bit true, but honestly it was fun working together like we did. We were partners and I liked it. Mowing lawns in the heat (on my days off from the salon) sucked, but I was good at it and I was efficient. I thrive on being efficient. The fun times were the winter nights when we'd clear snow. We'd go out at night after a storm and work in the silent moonlight. The roads would be sketchy and we'd slide around, but it was fun because almost no cars were on the roads. Plus, we were still in that awesome super in LOVE phase where you just love being together no matter where you  are or what you're doing.

I also mow the lawn now because I get a tremendous sense of satisfaction from it. There's nothing like a fresh cut lawn to really amp up your curb appeal. The hair stylist in me loves to cut things into nice clean shapes. Our yard is like an enormous clipper cut. I love to make it look nice, trimmed and perfect. Every time I cut our grass, I find a new, more efficient pattern to mow. Our yard is not square and there are a million ways to cut it. I want to find the perfect pattern and I'm not quite there yet. I know it's weird, but it feels wonderful to make each blade of grass level and clean looking. I feel warm and giddy just writing about it. Cutting things is certainly my calling. I would get the same feeling from cutting off a mullet. Mangy to groomed is my specialty. Perhaps this is why I also shave my legs every single day. It brings me peace.

The last reason is the worst of all because it's pride based. I want to be useful. I want to be a jack of all trades. If Dave ever divorced me, and let's face it, I have a mouth on me and the possibility is there. I would want Dave to marry a useless woman who expects Dave to do everything for her. Then I would live the rest of my life knowing that Dave would cry himself to sleep every single night knowing that I was the most awesome wife of all. I would be appreciated and my true worth as a useful, efficient woman would finally be recognized. I told Dave this last night and he patted me on the arm and said, "Good job." I guess that's all the thanks I'm getting.

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