Two packages were delivered to our house last week. Take a guess as to which one is mine:
Yes, of course mine is the box which contained sensible sandals. The big orange BOX clearly belonged to Dearly Beloved.
When he first decided he wanted to take over care of the lawn, DB had to buy a new mower, rotary tiller and a couple of other tools. Then there was the archeological dig in the garage to unearth some other equipment he’d saved–older than any of our grandsons. He found two old trimmers and combined parts to come up with one working trimmer. Who knows how many times they’ve moved with us?! There’s a special bond between a man, his lawn, and his power tools.
Our lawn, to be honest, looks great. The unofficial committee of the nonexistent Yard of the Month award has told him that he is the unofficial recipient. He enjoys working on it.
Some of his equipment, however, just wasn’t cutting it. Literally. The trimmer kept breaking. The electric leaf blower that I had talked him into wasn’t strong enough to do its job either..
In fairness to myself, back when he bought that blower, there was no plan for him to be waltzing around on the roof with a duct-taped leaf blower, the cord and extension cord dragging behind him. It’s a retirement skill. Our horrified neighbors have protested. Heck, I’d protest, too, but he waits until I leave the house to climb up there. I have come home and found small groups of neighbors standing in the front yard, watching. You’d think he was a Wallenda.
When his other disappointment– that old, cobbled-together string trimmer that he’s repaired again and again with parts from one even older, broke this time, instead of putting them back in the garage, he gave last rites to both and passed them onto Earl, the dump truck driver. Earl says he’ll rebuild them into something powerful enough to cut down trees.
DB hates going shopping, a fact so well-known that Little Mary Sunshine is grouchy after a shopping excursion with him. BUT, since he has discovered Amazon Prime, internet shopping has opened new worlds for him. He began a search for the perfect POWER trimmer.
When we returned from an outing last week, the BOX was leaning against the side of the house. Even DB was surprised by its size. He had to carry it battering-ram style through the front door.
This new trimmer/brush cutter can slice and dice as well as amputate and mutilate. I don’t know how he can even carry it around. The box alone weighs more than the old trimmers.
Our son-in-law had a similarly dinky model electric weed trimmer for years. Electric, at our daughter’s insistence. Son-in-law found it too embarrassing to use it during daylight hours. He called it his “weed bender,” since it wasn’t powerful enough to cut anything..
DB couldn’t wait to tell him about this new one.
A pair of goggles came in the BOX as part of the equipment. DB thought that might be overkill until he used it for about five minutes. He had to come inside and change from shorts and t-shirt into jeans and a long-sleeved sweatshirt because the trimmings were flying with such force that his legs and face were getting cut. Now he believes that a helmet and knee pads would be appropriate as standard equipment, too.
I won’t be touching it. Even leaned against the garage wall, it looks more menacing than anything in Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Just tell me . . . does this thing need to be registered as an assault weapon?
My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance.
… mow the lawn perfectly, but neglect to make the bed? It’s pure, unadulterated logic.Everyone can see the yard – nobody can see the bed. The lawn is the canvas uponwhich guys judge each other. It’s the great redeemer. If we aren’t great lawn men, we’re nothing. - Kevin Kerwin, 47 Husband Mysteries