Sweet Thursday; Ahhh, The Sound Of Spring
Grass grows at an alarming rate. As the mower is pushed you can look behind and see it growing. It’s almost like one of those 50s sci-fi movies. The nerdy neighborhood kid who mows lawns to have enough money to by comics and a sundae for Sally Mae at the corner drugstore gets swallowed alive by the encroaching grass.
In my neighborhood there is a steady hum of lawnmowers. They start at about nine in the morning and quit around seven in the evening. And it seems like it’s seven days a week. It would be nice if there was a fixed time to mow your lawn; sort of a neighborhood rule, maybe even a constitutional amendment. Let’s say Monday between 6:00 PM and 7:00 PM. If you mow beyond those times you get shot and a fine.
The threat of death is a great deterrent, but I find an actual execution most effective.
I don’t get the guys who have a lawn the size of bankcard with a riding mower designed to mow the Pebble Beach Country Club. I hear them start up, count to three, the motor is shut off, and they’re done. Then the guy goes to the gym for a workout. Buy a mower you don’t have make payments on and push around the yard and you won’t need a gym membership.
I got to go now and perch on the roof of my house with a my sniper rifle and start picking of mowers.