Mowed the Lawn
Funny story. My mom never let me/made me mow the lawn because she was worried I'd hurt myself. And I'm not an Pleasant Valley Sunday kind of gal. I mean, I don't do sun. Before there was such a thing as goth, I typified it. (Okay, so modern goths have substantially refined the look, but there was me, black clad, glaring white skin, only going out at night...) It's maybe once a year I'm seen outdoors without my legs covered. So we initially hired a gardener here, in this, the first house I've ever lived in where the household was responsible for the lawn. Then I made Rick mow the lawn. But tonight it was going to be well after dark before he got home, and tomorrow is garbage/garden clipping pickup day. So I thought, I can do this. I can mow the lawn. And I did. It went well, until I hit the lawn sprinkler. Thankfully, it missed me entirely, but pieces did fly all the way out to the street. Rick says you're supposed to do a walk around to check for obstacles before you mow. Oh. He also says I'm not allowed to mow the lawn anymore. Oh well. Considering the post-mowing sneezing fit, I'm not going to complain much about that pronouncement. And heck, my lawn is pretty now, clippings are piled, and no one died. Um, yay?