The Lawnmower

By G. E. Shuman

                I know I’ve mentioned in the past that I don’t particularly like mowing my lawn.  I don’t particularly like snow blowing more, but mowing is not something I ever look forward to.  You may love mowing grass, and if so I’m happy for you. I do it, but I would just rather not.

                About a week ago I bought a new mower, on sale, at ‘Stuffmart’. I decided that I had tortured my dozen year old little mower enough, on our hill and tall grass, and decided to put it out to pasture, if you get the pun. Ha.                                              

                My wife has a dachshund, and it’s a miniature dachshund, at that. I usually determine when it is time to cut the grass when I put her out for her morning pee. (I mean the dachshund, not my wife.)  My theory is that If I can still see the dog in the grass on the side lawn then I can safely let it grow for a few more days. (The grass, not the dachshund. That dog never grows.)

                Anyway, I bought my new cut-rate grass cutter from my favorite big box store, and brought it home in a big box that just fit in the back of the car.  Truthfully, I had a bit of trouble getting the thing out of the box. First of all, it’s hard to unbox something when you can’t find your trusty box cutter. I couldn’t find my trusty box cutter. ‘Ho Hum. Oh dear… what did I do with that thing?’ I thought, as I decided to open the mower box tomorrow, or maybe the next day.

                Finally, a few days later, I did open the box and was pleasantly surprised at the relatively few pieces in the box. There was just a small bag of nuts and bolts, four wheels, (I guessed, one for each corner,) the handle, and even the mower itself.

                I succeeded in getting the mower together in a relatively short period of time, especially since I’m a real man, and real men don’t read directions. The problem was that the lawn really needed mowing by that day. (I hadn’t seen the dachshund in quite a while.) At this point my only real hope was that my new mower wouldn’t start, but I was sorely disappointed. I put oil in the brand new little motor, and then filled up the gas tank. It started on the very first pull of the rope. Dang! They just don’t make things the way they used to.

                I can’t really be complaining about mowing our little lawn, although I guess I just have been. In truth, which is something I try to avoid in these columns, your living room carpet is probably bigger than our lawn, but I’d wager that your carpet doesn’t have a hillside on one end of it. If it does, you should really have your house looked at.

                I was surprised when I began mowing that the mower was very easy to use and cut through that tall grass like, well, like a new lawnmower through grass. I don’t think I’ll dread the awful task of mowing the lawn quite so much now. I might even have to find something with shorter legs than a dachshund to measure the grass with next time, if there is such an animal.