Okay, I don't have anything as fly as the Flymo, but I love mowing the lawn. I really do. I live on three city lots set on a corner, so there's a whole lotta lawn to love.
I love mowing the same way I love to iron. To me, they're kinda the same. The only difference is that you can iron and watch "Law and Order" rer-runs and still appear virtuous and busy. One must always appear to be both virtuous and busy.
They're the same thing. You kinda push your "machine" up and down and smooth things out. The feel-good results are instantaneous. Ahhhhh look, now doesn't that green row look tidy, neat, and oh-so-Leave-it-to-Beaver?
It could be a green plaid shirt or my lawn, it doesn't matter. These chores are methodical and predictable. Well, aside from the occasional rock that flies up or a smocked bodice. I didn't really need this parenthetical thought. I think I just wanted to type "smocked bodice" which is a phrase I don't often use. The Queen's dresser may use this phrase more than I. Getting part of the task of either mowing or ironing done just makes you want to finish the whole thing.
Mowing the lawn smells good. I love the smell of cut grass. Ironing smells good too because I get this lavender scented item I call "sniffy stuff" at The Dollar Store, It isn't spray starch.
Just my thoughts from sunny Portsmouth, Virginia. The back is mowed. The front remains. I have to make an apple crisp for my dear friend Joseph who was just in hospital. I didn't forget the "the" in that sentence. He is British and that's how he says it. I am doing something exciting with a doll house and picking up a prescription. I bring Lulu with me in the Jeep to go through the Navy Rx Drive Through and she get's a dog treat. I'd like a little chocolate cupcake with pink frosting, but the Navy thinks that's a little over the top. Have a good day.