Weedeating

“Downsizing gone wrong”

            OUT BACK – Water? Anybody? No. I’m not offering. I need water. Look out there. I just weedeated the backyard during the hottest part of the day.

            What? No, I don’t own a Weed Eater, smarty britches. I’ve never owned a weedeater with the BRAND name of Weed Eater. Most people have caught onto the realization that when someone comes up with a popular invention, our culture rewards that person by referring to any facsimile with the same name.

           

            It wasn’t all that many years ago when bosses would hand over a piece of paper and say, “Get me a Xerox of this.” Today, I call all carbonated drinks “cokes.” If I see a large, round, plastic loop at the Dollar Store, I call it a “Hula Hoop”, even if it’s labeled “Hip Twister.” So, all grass trimmers are “weedeaters,” and all orange, cheesy, crispy snacks are called Cheetos.

            By the way, I’m really thirsty now, so I’m sneaking into the house to get some water. It sure wouldn’t hurt my feelings if one of you took that broom and swept the grass off this porch. And no, I’m not taking orders for drinks. I’ve only got two cokes and they’re both Dr Peppers. That means Kay owns them. -- Back in a minute.  – Okay, I hope you’re happy. Kay didn’t know I was out back until she saw me come in for water. She’ll be out here before you know it.

            Kay doesn’t enjoy sitting outside by herself. I don’t mind at all, especially when you show up. Speaking of which, I noticed the broom hasn’t moved. Not to worry, my electric leaf blower made the move with us. Unfortunately, my 250 feet of extension cords didn’t. I left them at the old house, because we were down-sizing and I knew I didn’t need any long extension cords.

            Last week, I had to buy 125 feet worth of extension cords, because while the size of the property and the house are smaller, the portion of the property that needs maintained is about the same size. I never thought I’d need new garden implements, because we weren’t buying a place large enough for Kay to have a garden.

            Last Tuesday, she handed me one of the first two blackberries from “our” garden. They were large, dark blue and sour. I planted the vines and did my share of garden tending. I had to buy and distribute a bunch of mulch and top soil. Kay tells me that for my efforts, we may get up to two handfuls of berries this year. -- Quite often, logic takes flight around here.

            I also managed to give away my old battery powered weedeater because I didn’t think I’d need it and the battery was good for only about eight minutes. In early April I ended up buying a new grass trimmer. The thing has a battery so powerful that the car starts while I’m trimming the edges of the driveway. (Slight exaggeration) I don’t know how long the battery will hold a charge, because I plug it in after each trimming and it’s always maintained its charge to that point.

            By the way, Kay invited the Plilers and their grandson over last night for supper. (Stay with me. This is relevant.) I cooked a pork roast, and everyone thought it was okay. Virginia said she would’ve preferred ribs. But, forget my feelings; Virginia and Freeman’s grandson works in lawn maintenance. He has a card and everything. He suggested we let him take care of our lawn.

            I didn’t respond, because I knew when I said no, Virginia would  claw my eyes out. Had Ryan asked me back in February, I would’ve let him take over the lawn. But, over the past couple of months I have invested so much money in lawn equipment and accessories, I can’t justify letting someone else take care of my yard.

            As long as my self-propelled lawnmower, my EGO Grass Trimmer, my electric leaf-blower with 125 feet worth of extension cord, my new shovel, rake, pickax and work gloves with an attached flashlight… as long as all of this stuff is operative, I feel an obligation to maintain my own yard. Yep, Kay mows the yard, and I continue to do the hard stuff… until I can’t.

            When I no longer have the mobility or stamina to take care of the yard or myself, I’ll be hauled off to “Adela and Norm’s Home for the Inactive.” Kay continues to monitor me to make sure I keep up the payments on my long-term care insurance policy. The things that woman does for me. – Speak of the angel, here she is.

            “Well, hi, my sweet-patootie. How nice, you brought me a Dr Pepper.” – KAY: “No, it’s mine. I thought you already had water.” -- ME: “Right, so what do you think about the yard, my little dandelion?”  -- KAY: “Looks like somebody should mow it. I believe it’s your turn isn’t it?” – ME: “Excuse me a minute, my dearest tricker-lady.”

            I’m sorry. I’m going need a moment with Kay. I think she’s joking with me, but can’t be certain. And, people are always telling Kay that they’re praying for her. Give me a break. – Next time.

           

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Mark can be contacted at hayter.mark@gmail.com. An archive of Hayter’s articles can be found at http://markhayterscolumn.blogspot.com