Single Girl Chronicles - Mowing

So last night I decided that I would (finally) mow. I hate mowing. Hate it. And while I am a liberated gal who believes in the fair and equal distribution of labor without regard to gender, mowing is a BOY job. Like taking out the trash and killing things. BOY jobs, all of them.

But there are no boys in my house. And there will not be any boys in my house... unless I get a boy dog, but I'm pretty sure that he will not see mowing as one of his duties.

So I got home from class and cleared the larger tree droppings from my yard (seriously, my trees shed enough that if I had a fireplace I could be warm all winter) and then went around back to get the mower. In the front yard there are two large trees that provide lovely shade... and apparently keep the grass under control. It was scruffy but not obscene.

Since I'm not smoking anymore I haven't really been out in the back yard for a long time and it was quite a shock to be standing in it.

I had to wade through knee-high grass to get to the shed. No lie. There was grass up to my knees.

So I decided to mow the back yard first.

It took and hour. Just the back yard. Took an hour.
Then I was red-faced (with green legs) and sweating like a... well... like a boy. So I decided that the front could wait. No sense in stroking out in the front yard in front of all the neighbors.

I drank a hundred gallons of water, rinsed off in the shower, turned the a/c down nice and low and collapsed on the bed until my heart was beating at a nice, normal pace and the ringing in my ears stopped.

Maybe I should hire a boy. Just for the grass. Or I could get a boy llama. They're just big dogs that eat grass, right?!?