Nothing to do with being lazy.... it's just his thing, not mine.
Anyway I do pretty much everything else in the blooming garden.
He does love his mower - I guess it's switch off time - and I'm not complaining because it makes the rest of the garden look great (even the weeds)
It would be nice though, if occasionally he saw past the grass. I don't think he'd notice if there was a giant beanstalk growing in one of the flowerbeds.
I often get asked how the grass is doing....after he's checked up on the kids.
The thing is it isn't doing that well. It's a meadow out there. I need to get the mower going or find some sheep.
And it would be wrong for him to spend his first weekend home in 4 months cutting the grass...wouldn't it? So I used up some precious phone minutes getting a crash course in how to start the mower, which went something along the lines of....
"..Check you've got enough petrol."
"Yep" (praying the petrol tank is really obvious)
"Press the sqidgey button three times, then push the lever away from the tortoise towards the hare."
"..and don't forget to hold the three front bars together while you tug the cord hard. This might be the tricky part - it's a bit temperamental.."
Flipping Nora! "TRICKY....??"
But I want it to look good when he gets back (and it's number 3 on my April Goals list)
So I dragged the lawnmower out of the shed.
40 minutes later I'd almost dislocated my shoulder and hadn't got a single chug out of the mower. I was about to give up, when a lovely man strimming the grass by the church next door took pity on me and offered to help.
He got it to start first time.
I had no intention of letting it stop; so I thanked him on the move, took the grass collector thing off the back and kept pushing the mower around the garden until it ran out of petrol.
|...the unflattering proof!|
I wasn't remotely surprised when I couldn't get it started again.
We are not going to be friends.