Wednesday, August 7, 2002
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Wednesday, August 7, 2002 |
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Mike versus the big, green monster By MICHAEL
BOYLAN
Call me Ishmael. Heck, just call me bushed. A few people out there probably realized that I didn't have a column in last Wednesday's paper. That is because I had just moved in to my very own house. By last Wednesday we were almost all done unpacking and thoughts began to turn to that big, green thing in the back of the house. Though it looked like a lawn at first, after walking it and getting bitten by several hundred varieties of insects I determined that it was actually a rainforest. Someone would have to tame that wild piece of land and, because chivalry is not dead at my house and more because I have a better schedule than my wife, it was my job to procure a lawnmower and start mowing. I purchased one of those nifty manual lawnmowers from the 1950s because it is good for the environment and doesn't have one of those strings you have to pull 800 times to get it to start. We put the lawnmower together on Thursday night and it was decided that I would start mowing the lawn at my very own house the following afternoon. I got home from work on Friday afternoon and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. I lathered on the sunscreen, drank a big glass of water, put on my sunglasses and headed out to break in my new lawnmower. It broke me in. I exited the garage and figured that I would start at the side of my house and work my way back. Unfortunately, the lawn at the side of my house is on a hill. I went down the hill with no problems, but pushing the lawnmower back up the hill was almost impossible. I succeeded in going up and down the hill a few times before my eyes were clouded with stinging sweat and my lungs felt like they were going to burst. Who knew that I had moved into a house on Mount Everest? I retreated inside for more water. I knew I had to change my plan of attack or I would be found face down and babbling in my back yard. The lawn in the back was flat, so I decided to move into the back yard. I also determined that I did not have to attack the lawn and the lawnmower like football players hitting those pads that the coaches ride. If I was going to survive the afternoon, I was going to have to take it easy. Don't mow all the way across, mow in smaller laps. I actually mowed for a good 10 minutes before I needed another glass of water and a cool rag around my neck. What a wonderful way to spend the afternoon. I was light-headed from the strenuous activity in the hot sun, ecstatically enjoying any flicker of a breeze that came my way and communing with the creepy crawly nature that oozed out of patches of lawn I just mowed over. After my next session of pushing the lawnmower around a flat, shady part of my lawn, I took a seat on my back porch and regained my breath. I had switched to Gatorade at this point, recooled my rag and dumped a small glass of water over my head, which gave me a good 30 seconds of clarity before evaporating and making the area I sat in more humid than it already was. I started hearing intermittent screaming. I relaxed after I discovered that it wasn't coming from me but from somewhere out in the woods behind my house. It did not sound like a human scream at all, more like a panicked animal like a pig or some form of rodent. I followed the sound around from one side of the woods to the other, all from the comfort of my porch, mind you. I still could barely move. I was looking for an animal to come bolting out of the woods followed by an enormous monster who would hopefully have really sharp toenails that would cut my lawn as he chased his prey. Yes, I was starting to go a little mad. Instead, I gazed up in the sky and saw a large bird, either an eagle or a hawk, circling the back yard and screaming twice every 20 seconds or so. Now that I look back, it might have been a vulture signalling his pals that there might be some fresh meat soon. I returned to the lawn and made it down to the hill in the back of the yard before deciding it was best for my health if I stopped. The lawn was too large and the grass was too high to finish at that point of the day. My mother had offered to give me her old electric lawn mower so I decided to call her and tell her that we may need it. I was pretty disoriented at this point and the last thing I needed to be doing was speaking to a sane human being. Needless to say, 15 minutes later she had told me that they would bring over the lawnmower that evening. Later that night I learned that if the grass is too long, the electric lawnmower gets clogged very easily. That and the plug tends to fall out unless it is tied in tightly. I called it a night soon after. I dedicated most of Saturday morning to the front lawn, which went a bit easier. It was very early though and the grass was still wet. The electric lawnmower and the manual lawnmower are now both sitting patiently waiting for the lawn to be mowed to a short enough length that they will be useful and easier to use. In summation, I learned to never bite off more than you can chew when it comes to lawncare, never mow the lawn in the dead heat of an August afternoon and never mow in the morning when the grass is wet. The most important lesson I learned from all of this was that I hate mowing the lawn more than anything else. I think we need to buy a goat. |
