Breakdown Ahead

Remember a few months ago, when I bragged about being a "do-it-myselfer"? I should have kept my mouth shut. La la la la, I fired my lawn guy. La la la la, my boyfriend loaned me a riding mower. La la la la, I will save so much money. La dee dee da dee da. Screw that.

It all started with the weedeater. The NEW weedeater that I purchased in the name of saving money. Gotta spend money to save money, right? So, off I go, with my new Ryobi trimmer, my slightly used riding mower, and my ol faithful Toro Power push mower. Oh, and my high dollar "professional" blower. I don't remember the exact chain of events, but let's just say that the weedeater went through a tank of gas in about 3 minutes, the blower puffed and then died, and ol faithful had a coughing fit. The loaner mower worked great! Great until I got to the surprisingly steep slope in the front yard that threatened to roll me right on out of the seat. "Ok, no worries", I said. I got more gas, added oil, made some adjustments, and came up with the following yard maintenance routine:

1. Cut 3/4 of yard with riding mower.
2. Use push mower on slope and ditch.
3. Use weedeater on steeper ditch and edges.
4. Blow off driveway and carport.
5. Relax with Corona.

Done and done. That lasted a week. The routine then turned into:

1. Cut 3/4 of yard with riding mower.
2. Use push mower until it mysteriously shuts off.
3. Use weedeater for 3 minutes, add more gas, use 3 more minutes, add more gas, use 1 minute, untangle string, use 2 minutes, add more gas.
4. Blow off area around shed, attempt to restart blower, abort mission and sweep driveway with broom.
5. Mutter expletives while chugging a Corona and giving the yard the evil eye.

This went on for a couple of weeks. Then it got hot. The routine evolved into this:

1. Cut 3/4 of yard with riding mower.
2. Haul push mower out of shed and attempt to start. Slam it down on the ground and declare loudly, "THAT'S IT! I AM SELLING THIS FACKING HOUSE AND MOVING INTO A GOTDAMNED CONDO."
3. Roar at boyfriend when he gently suggests adding gas to the mower.
4. Attempt to crank weedeater. Watch as bits of flesh fall to the ground from fingers. Cry in frustration. Laugh in a hyena-like fashion when weedeater finally cranks. Consider drinking the contents of the gas can when string immediately becomes tangled.
5. Watch helplessly as boyfriend skulks off to Home Depot for fix-it supplies. Wonder if he is ever coming back.
6. Get misty eyed remembering a George the lawn guy montage.
7. Attempt to start blower. Give up.
8. Watch as boyfriend repairs weed-eater, fills up mower with gas, and finishes yard.
9. Wonder why marriage never works out for me.

This lasted a couple of more weeks. Then...it all fell apart.

1. Cut 3/4 of yard with riding mower.
2. Cut slope and ditch with 'ol faithful push mower.
3. Trim edges with weedeater with new and improved trimming head that does not use string, but dull plastic knives. Notice gas trail. Answer questions from nosy ass overly helpful neighbor about said weedeater.
4. Refill gas and tighten cap to Vulcan strength on weedeater and attempt to restart in carport, safely away from prying eyes. Exert brute strength on pull start. Punch side mirror on car with said brute strength due to cramped quarters. Watch as hand doubles in size and turns purple.
5. Work through pain and get it done.
6. Cry into beer.

Intermission: birthday, trip to Florida, twisted knee and subsequent limp.

1. Cut 3/4 of yard with riding mower. Consider taking chances on slope with riding mower but chicken out at last second a la "Footloose" tractor scene.
2. Feel optimistic as push mower starts on first try. Cut ditch and watch in disbelief as clouds of white smoke billow out over the neighborhood. Panic as the realization sets in that the smoke has reached the neighbor's house. Attempt to hobble the mower, sans power feature, back up to the privacy of the backyard before neighbor can make his way over to conversate. Fail.
3. Answer questions about smoking mower with standard, "yeah." "thanks." "yeah, it will be fine." "ok." "alright." "yeah."
4. Wish someone would stop and offer me $100K cold hard cash for the purchase of my home right then.
5. Start weedeater, now known as weed-caresser. Attempt to finish ditch by gently caressing the grass with machine. Recognize the futility. Abort mission.
6. Plug in electric blower, provided by sweet boyfriend, feel optimistic as clippings scatter down the driveway...until cord runs out...halfway down. Sweep the rest.
7. Look up symptoms of heat stroke on google.

Which brings us to last night...

1. Watch newscast about 110 degree heat index and decide to put off lawn work until sundown.
2. Haul push mower out and cross fingers that white smoke issue will have magically resolved itself during the week long time out in the shed.
3. Successfully cut two strips of slope. Consider laying down in the street when the familiar plumes of white smoke appear. Remember the episodes of "LOST!" where the white smoke comes to atone someone for their sins. Wonder what sins I am atoning for.
4. Hobble non working mower back to shed for permanent time out. Remember doctor's advice, "Stay off the knee." Wonder if doctor is married and who cuts her yard.
5. Crank weedcaresser. Attempt to trim calf tall grass with plastic knives. Run out of gas. Sling machine to the ground. Wonder if anyone is peaking out their windows at the impending nervous breakdown taking place. Exhale and watch sweat fly off face. Remember Michael Douglas movie, "Falling Down". Consider falling down.
6. Notice that entire exercise took approximately 2.5 hours...net accomplishment: 1/1000 of yard cut.
7. Sit on porch and smoke. Think about tomorrow, another evening of lawn maintenance. Remember that there is an entire backyard that needs cutting as well. Calculate time spent on yard. Realize that 75% of free time is spent on yard. Remember how important free time is. Wonder how other people do it so easily. Weigh out emotional toll versus monetary savings.
8. Pull out phone book, newspaper, and log in to Craigslist.
9. Compile list of people who make a living worrying about grass.
10. Cross my name off that list.