Lawn Mowing Is A Complete Drag

I know why it takes Bill so long to get to it! We have a nearly dilapidated push-type mower with a dull blade and a bag that never stays on. It’s aggravating enough for me to hear him laboring over row upon row of dense blades; I could only sympathize as I had no idea what sort of determination he had to muster up every time he mowed our lawn. Since Bill has been in Spanish classes and has quite a bit of homework each evening I wanted to treat him by mowing the lawn...
***today is payday and, since money has been tight, he had to use the gas that was in the gas can for the lawnmower for our van so he could get to work (did you catch that?)***
...so I tried starting the thing (I forgot to mention that the knob that was attached to the end of the pull string came off a long time ago) about a zillion times before I figured out that the throttle should be set at fast. Once I got the thing started I soon realized why Bill hates mowing the lawn when the lawn is damp. I might as well have been trying to hack my way through a rainforest! And the slugs that kept emerging looked like they were s l o w l y mocking my every grunt and gasp...a very prolonged ridicule of my noble efforts. I hoped the salty sweat that was dripping from my forehead gave them at least a little comeuppance.

Then the lawnmower quit. I checked the gas and there was still gas in it. I pulled the string and nothing happened. I turned the thing over and discovered that a giant wad of clippings had lodged itself between the blade and the space where the bag should have gone. When I dug the grimy green clump out I started the lawnmower again which sputtered for a few seconds then quit again. It was then I noticed that a new mound had been deposited under the lawnmower. I decided that this was likely to happen frequently so I grabbed a rake from the garage and cleared the path in front of the lawnmower....
***not once in all of this had I thought I should have asked my midwife if I could mow the lawn, but I was sincere enough about this job that I hope she will overlook this***
...by this time I had determined that my love for my husband would perservere and I would get the lawn mowed no matter how long it took me. I was applauding myself inwardly for being such a loving and generous wife and wondering what sort of delectable rewards he would bestow upon me for my goodness.

Then the lawnmower quit and nothing would make it start again. I checked the gas and, sure enough, it was empty. So while I was standing in the garage looking at the bare spot where the gas can usually sits I decided I should just get Elizabeth to rake the clippings with me later. Bill will likely mow the lawn, with a fresh supply of gas, sometime this evening. So, perhaps I should just shower off the gas fume laden sweat, give myself a manicure/pedicure, put on some pretty smells, and treat him to a savory dinner…

...and discuss buying a goat.

Glory