Sure, our lawn looks easy to mow — that’s why I bought a manual push-mower last year. But truth be known, the yard is full of hidden dips and divets, soft patches, and not-so-hidden hills that mean I always have to run full-tilt boogie to prevent the mower from bogging down every few feet. Raising the blades a notch means missing too much grass. Today finally got fed up and called baald in a sweat: “Can I borrow your lawn mower, man?” baald has a nuclear-powered Lawn Hawg.
Felt like waking up from a bad dream. Despite protestant work ethic which demands I exert undue effort to derive satisfaction from any given job, I’m never going back. It’s like vacuuming the grass. Clean lines, little hesitation through the rough spots, and shoulders that don’t ache at the end of the day. Got to find a used electric mower.
Last year, automatic transmission, this year, no-sweat mowing. What am I becoming? Old and reasonable?