So I was on a high from changing the license plates all by myself. I decided, hey, while I’m at it, why not mow the yard? A lot of people were mowing their yard. Granted, most of the people were MEN. I sort of stared wistfully at the guy across the street as he pushed the mower effortlessly across his yard. I think he caught me staring at him and assumed that I was checking out his butt.
Sorry. But no. I was just jealous that all these men were out in their yards and I was stuck doing it myself.
I sighed and headed into the garage to pull the mower out. The mower, by the way, was wedged in the corner and was surrounded by my treasures. See, I call them treasures; my husband refers to them as JUNK. Excuse me, my old high school notebooks are NOT junk. They could come in handy someday. Suppose I want to remember what my sixth period class was back in 1998? You just never know.
So after I pushed my treasures aside I went to yank the mower out. But it wasn’t budging. I grunted and strained until I realized that one of the wheels was trapped by an old scarf. Ew! Where did that scarf come from? It was neon (!) multicolored and something that I would never be caught dead in. Ew! Then I realized that it was my husband’s old scarf. See, we had gone through a bunch of boxes and Tom had opted to KEEP the scarf in case our son wanted it someday.
I couldn’t fathom anyone wearing that scarf. Ever. So I sort of tossed it behind some boxes and hoped that a mouse would come out and eat it/poop on it/drag it away....
I guess the scarf started a love affair with the mower or something because I had to pull a few times in order to get it free.
Then I tossed it behind some boxes again.
I dragged the mower to the yard and took a deep breath before yanking on the string that turned it on.
I pulled and....
So I pulled again.
Then I started muttering a bunch of inappropriate words and I may have even kicked the mower’s side.
“You WILL work,” I told the mower sternly. I have a problem with talking to inanimate objects.
Thankfully my neighbor, who had been spraying weed killer in his yard, had gone inside so he didn’t catch my mini-tantrum. However, I saw one of his curtains flick as though someone had been standing there.
They may have seen me talk to the mower.
Great. Now my neighbor is going to think I’m crazy like Anne Heche when she lost her mind and started talking alien.
I’m not like that, I swear.
I stomped in the house and dialed my husband’s number.
“Hello?” he said.
“How do I turn the mower on? I’m pulling and nothing is happening!” I shouted dramatically.
“Is it SO hard for you to say hello first?” Tom wondered.
“HELLO!” I said my voice laced with irritation. "How do I turn on the mower?"
Seriously. It was hot and sweat was starting to form on my brow. I am not attractive when I turn hot. I become a drippy red-faced mess. I wanted to mow and get it over with. It was not the time for pleasantries.
“You prime it,” Tom said calmly. He’s used to my antics. Sometimes I think he may even get off on them. Then he can be like, “Yes, I’m the sane one in this relationship.”
What’s a prime it? It sounded like a new dance move or something.
“What’s a prime it?” I questioned. It was like an entirely different language.
Tom chuckled. Oh, laugh it up mister. We’ll see who is laughing when we see each other for the first time in three months and I’m wearing granny panties and pretending that I’m on my period.
“You know that red button on the front of the mower?” Tom said.
I walked to the front of the mower and squatted down. I noticed a red button with the word PRIME 6TIMES above it.
“I see it,” I replied and started pushing it.
“The mower should work now,” Tom said knowingly as though he had just discovered how to make chocolate or something.
I pulled the string and the mower roared to life.
“Thank you,” I said to Tom. “Talk to you later. Love you!”
See? I can be quite nice when I figure things out.
I got the entire front lawn mowed and part of the back. Then I got tired. I honestly started to see spots and John Krasinski (Jim on The Office ) leaped out from behind a pine tree. So I figured at that point that I needed to stop.
Although, admittedly, I was a little disappointed that John wasn’t really there. It turned out to be an empty box.