Watching the Grass Grow

I am a first-time homeowner. The house came with a large yard that needed desperately to be mowed. It was the first time that I had live grass where burnt straw typically laid. Who knew the day would come when my grass grew tall enough to be mowed?!?! I usually spend the summer walking barefoot across my yard muttering, "Sweet jesus! Ouch. Ohh, the pain. Prickly pain!"

So, my boyfriend, Matt, and I found this sweet, self-propelled, mulch-bagging mower for $50. (Can't beat that!) We load it up, take it to my house and Matt offers to break it in. What should I do while he's mowing the front yard? I guess I'll prune my roses. As I'm out-of-control pruning, roses flying everywhere, Matt pauses.

Matt: "Um, you might not like this mower. You can try it out. If you don't like it, we'll get you a new one."
Me: "A new one? Nooooo, I'll like it. It cuts so nice!"
Matt: "Yes, but...well, you might want to just try it first. It's kind of hard to push."
Me: "I'll be fine. Look at you pushing it! It looks so easy. We're keeping it!"
Matt:" The self-propulsion doesn't seem to be working. This mower is very heavy."
Me: "Naw, I grew up mowing. It'll be no problem at all."

Looking back, I see my undoing clearly.

After offering to mow the back yard, I find myself with hands on the mower. Ready to go. GRROOMMM...started right up. Easy. I push. HuuuuuGGGH! Nothing happens. I push harder and still nothing. I give it everything that I have in me. HAARREEEEE!!!! ...I think I felt movement!!! I look back to see my trail...

Uh oh. Nothing.

(Twenty minutes later in the back yard.) Alright...I can do this. Give it one more push. On three. And a one, anna two, anna goooooo. BRRACCCKKK...HARUMPH! AGGHH! The mower moves...oh, I'd say about an inch. I, on the other hand, come crashing into the mower that is NAILED DOWN to its position in the grass. OH GOD, the PAIN! I look back at my progress and I've cut about 4 or 5 blades of grass. Sweet.

My arms are completely outstreched and I'm basically horizontal to the ground, pushing with all my might. Grunting. Sweating. With that, the bag rips open and the grass clippings blow straight into my face, which is two inches from the bag anyway. Everything sticks to me. It's in my eyes. It's all down my shirt. It's in my hair. I'm startled by something whizzing right by my face. I hear, "Ping!" as it hits the clothesline. One of Sam's dog toys will never be the same. Poor frog. I better open my eyes.

The rest of the chore was just as painful but I finished it. I had successfully mowed my back yard. I also had successfully bought the worst lawnmower this side of the Mississippi.

Well, you live and you learn. Or, in this case, you mow and you sweat.

Pennies, really?

Is anyone still using pennies? I mean, really. Can't we just cancel the bloody thing already?

It's worth one cent. One cent. I ask, what does one one-hundredth of one dollar buy you? I throw them away. Yep, right into the garbage. I mean, parking meters don't even take them anymore. Vending machines don't waste their time on them. Even gumballs cost 25 of them. Gumballs, people! And it takes 25 of them.

It's all about knowing when to say when. We've had it. We're done with dealing with these little pieces of nothing! I say, tell the mints to stop producing the little wastes of copper! We'll deal no more with the useless!