mowing the lawn or “I hate my neighbors”

I mowed the lawn for the first time this year yesterday. I did as much of it as I could, since I ripped the crankline out by the root on the last crank. Luckily it started on that one. I didn’t use any more oomph than I usually do, but it was nevertheless the most gratifying breakdown I’ve ever had. GORILLA ARMS! OOMGOWAH! I suppose I’ll have to take it down to Jerry’s Lawnmower Repair this week for a general enema.

Because of school, our yard has grown Clampett-like. The neighbors, I’m sure, have looked at our yard once or twice this winter and clicked their tongues. Fuck em.

My mission this summer, though, is to mow my lawn exactly 4 days after my Seabee neighbor. Mrs Seabee is a tongue clicker. A very annoying person with few redeeming qualities. I guess she has one or two qualities that aren’t annoying. I guess. She hasn’t yet shit in my mailbox. That’s something.

So, to raise the stakes, I’ll mow exactly 4 days after they mow. That way, their lawn will look 4 days shaggier than my lawn for the bulk of the summer. That will surely be irksome.

It’s possible…probable… that she will escalate by getting her husband to mow the day after I mow. That will not work. My response will be to mow the day after they re-mow with a lower blade clearance. My lawn will look like the fucking eighteenth green at a public golf course, if that’s what it takes.

And it will be perfectly obvious to them what I’m doing, at least by the 2nd or 3rd week of summer. She will know that something sinister and ineluctable is happening next door. She will not win. I will grind her pride-of-lawn into a fine mulch beneath my workboots. Then I will use it as a fertilizer for my yard.

It’s the little things that make life worth living.

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2 Responses to mowing the lawn or “I hate my neighbors”

  1. Drew Bixcube says:

    My most satisfying breakdown was similar, except that I ripped the crankline of a chainsaw. That bought me the time to explain to Mrs. Bixcube that I’m not really a chainsaw kind of guy. I paid to repair that beast and returned it to its owner. Eventually I bought myself a dainty electric chainsaw that purrs me to sleep when I’m lonely.

    About your neighbors, call me sick but I like pissing contests that you can only be sure you’ve won if the other guy commits suicide. You go!

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