Yesterday was a day that could be summed up in this quote:
"Somedays it's not worth chewing through the leather restraints."
I set out to trim the yard.
Just a quick trim.
Mowing the yard but not trimming it is like getting your hair styled and having pompoms of hair in your nostrils.
Ya just gotta do the trimming.
I pull out one of the three garage sale electric trimmers from the Shed. Then I rummage around in the back room for about 20 minutes.
50 feet of electrical cord has magically joined those left socks and my athletic ability in "The Land of Gone & No One Knows Where".
Huh.
I call up the Bro-In-Law to bum some cord.
"Sure. It's in the garage. The gas trimmer is in the shed. Take 'em both, if you want."
A half-hour later I'm armed with electrical cord and the orange trimmer.
I make it 10 ft down the row of peonies and it stops. Then I remembered why I have the other two red trimmers in the shed.
This one overheats and dies.
So I get a red one. No string showing. And I can't get the bump cap off. So much for TweetleDee.
I grab its twin, TweetleDum.
Same thing.
Maaaaaaannn.
The urge to practice for the Olympic Trimmer Toss is quelled by the realization that I have the B-I-L's gas trimmer.
After giving it CPR for 5 minutes:
-pump the primer, pump, pump, pump -pull the rope, pull, pull, pull
-check the choke
- mutter loudly
- pump, pump, pump
- pull, pull, pull
- mutter louder
- pump, pump ...
It finally burps to life. I walk over to the fire hydrant in the front yard, feeling like a third grader that finally gets to use that flamethrower he'd been dreaming about.
rrrrrRRRRRR. Thwaapathwaapathwap.
The fire hydrant is trimmed. Now to the south side of the house.
Huh.
Lotsa rrrrrRRRR.
No thwaapathwaapa.
No string.
And it takes the jumbo string.
I don't have jumbo string.
I shut the engine off.
But the loud noise continues.
That would be me.
I start to do the Olympic Trimmer Toss.
Oh yeah.
It's not mine.
Nuts.
Whoa.
Yeah.
Thaddid work.
If my hair grows long and I sprout a beard and mustache, who's gonna notice nose pompoms, right?
I'll let the yard go "no-mow" and who'll notice that the yard's not trimmed?
Yep.
I'm a genius.
At least until the Wife gets back from shopping.