In one of the great miscalculations of my life, though not as bad as when I unleashed a full-force sneeze directly in front of a window pane, I’ve attempted to maintain on my own the landscaping around my house.
It’s not that I’m cheap, it’s just that I think it’s wise to try to save money by doing things independently, such as the self-installation of blinds in my living room or the self-removal of ruptured organs from my midsection, though only non-vital ones I assure you.
There are now, and I don’t think I’m exaggerating, more than 400 million varieties of weeds surrounding my front and back yards, including strains of dandelion, fiddleneck, nightshade, knotweed, horseweed, chickweed and Bill Rancic.
By mid-May there were 5-foot weeds in the front of the house that, despite being green and prickly, I mistook for flowers. It took me three backbreaking hours to pull each and every one of them out of the ground, and it took about two weeks for them to grow back, almost to full height.
It became clear that the yard had gotten away from me, so I called in a couple of landscapers to give me an estimate. When one of them came by, we walked around the house, and I asked him questions while giving him an idea of the breadth of my horticultural knowledge.
Me: What kind of flower is that?
Him: That’s a weed.
Me: And those pretty flowers?
Him: More weeds.
Me: And that?
Him: That’s a raccoon, sir.
And on it went until I learned that my garage was actually an enormous weed.
The problem I’m facing now is that of the two landscapers who surveyed my property, approximately zero of them have followed up on their promise to give me an estimate. I’m guessing this is because A) the economy is so robust they don’t need the work or B) I have no idea.
The only thing I can think is that my account wouldn’t be lucrative because I refused to give up my one landscaping pleasure, which is mowing the lawn.
Let me tell you, that’s something I know how to do. I cut my own lawn and shave my own head, which are very similar and helps explain why my head also is overrun by weeds.
But the real reason I won’t give up mowing is because it’s a great escape. You pull the ripcord to start a loud motor that tunes out the world, then you walk back and forth for about 20 minutes and just relax.
It’s quite soothing and brings out brilliant ideas and thoughts, which is why I now present to you my …
THOUGHTS WHILE MOWING!
Sorry, the caps lock was on. Anyway, I did some mowing over the Labor Day weekend, and it brought forth some amazing thoughts and insights into the human condition.
For example:
– I really like the term, “human condition.” Some day, and that day may never come, I’ll use it in a column.
– It appears my wife is waving at me from the window and pointing to the dirty dishes. If I just ignore her, maybe she’ll do them herself.
– Is President Bush a flip-flopper because he switched over to sobriety?
– Is John Kerry stupid because he’s behind President Bush in the polls?
– I wonder what happens when a styrofoam cup gets caught under a lawn mower?
– Hmmm, that’s going to take a long time to clean up.
– I hate weeds. I really, really hate weeds.
– I love mowing.
– There really is nothing like a perfectly manicured lawn of grass. At least, I think this is grass.
———-
jgreenfield@tribune.com
