For Your Amusement - MMy MM Post! (Long)

This is my longest quit yet. I've have rough few days. A lot of
craves, but I've been able to hang. How have I made it for two whole
months? Well, dogged determination and the support of AS3. I read
daily, but I haven't had time to post lately. I've been thing of you
folks. And on that note, perhaps I can provide a chuckle to your day.

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Marvie's post a while ago about his very large yard stuck in my mind.
It made me realize that MMay 29 is approximately the third anniversary
of my declaration of lawn independence. I don't mow grass any more.
And yes, there is a story behind it. This is all true. It has
approached near legend status in my neighborhood.

I lived most of my life in condo up until I purchased the home I
currently live in. This meant for the first time since high school, I
must do LAWN MAINTENANCE. I approached this task with the typically
naivety of a new homeowner.

My first foray began with number of cheap mowers that I purchased on
sale that I couldn't keep going for more than a season. I'm pretty
handy with motors, but I spent more time at the Briggs & Stratton
parts counter than at Bi-Lo.

Then my sister gave me her electric mower. Yes Virginia, there is
such an animal. It's made by Black & Decker and has a power cord and
everything. It worked for about 3 months, and then the handle on the
power switch broke. Being the mechanical person that I am, I used a
pair of vise grip pliers to lock down the switch. Away I went, fat,
dumb and happy, with the pliers swinging from the power cord as I
mowed.

Until I hit a bump.

What I didn't think about was the potential downfall of the
contraption that I built. When the mower lurched, the cord with the
pliers whipped around my leg. On the last turn, the pliers smacked my
knee and wrapped back over the cord, cinching up tight. On that day,
the yard was wee bit wet, which made the cord nice and damp.

While in most cases this would be a minor annoyance, it seems that in
hitting my leg, the pliers had partially dislodged and contacted the
110 volt side of the power switch. The wet cord, while not an
excellent conductor, was more than up to the task stimulating the
sensitive area at the back of my knee.

I spent the next 15 or so seconds attempting to untether myself from
this medieval torture device. My neighbor told his children that the
screaming outside was the boogeyman and he'd open the door if they
didn't stop fighting. I truly felt that this was the lowest point of
my existence.

Until the next year.

I had purchased another mower at Lowe's after the e-mower incident. It
was on my mower of the month account. It had been giving pretty good
service and was almost at peace with my weekly lawn ritual. Little did
I know that I had been naughty to Mother Nature in a previous life.
Very naughty, indeed.

While mowing near a bush, I was stung by some vicious little ***.
In North Carolina, we have a cousin of the wasp known as a "Yellow
Jacket" that burrows in holes in the ground. They tend to be foul
tempered and have a very painful sting. Loud noises set them off.
Loud noises like the ones made by a 6 horsepower Briggs & Stratton
engine.

I stopped to fend off the attack from this little pissant. I was
caught between the bush and the mower so running wasn't really an
option. I decided to make my stand. After a few stings and some
serious self-flagellation, I managed to nail him. I was about to move
on when I felt something strange in my shorts.

Like most people I wear baggy cotton shorts in the summer, especially
when outside and sweating. Today was no exception and proved to be a
serious tactical error. While I was fending off the frontal assault
from the single attacker, I was being flanked by a platoon.

The first sting was approximately an inch above my right knee. It
was followed quickly by a second and third. With the power and
determination of an Olympic athlete, I leapt over the bush and made a
"bee-line" across my yard. About this time, I felt the next two
stings were about mid inner thigh, left leg. Things were getting
critical.

Two more stings and my reptile brain kicked in. It made the decision
that the shorts had to come off. To this day, I am not sure how I
managed it in a full sprint, but yet I rounded the corner of the house
in nothing more that my Nike's and BVD's. It was of course that this
point that I crossed in front of my 80 year old neighbor sitting on
her sun porch.

We haven't spoken since.


JimBob
2 months, 1 day, 17 hours, 28 minutes and 3 seconds.
<http://www.unconventional-wisdom.org>

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