I have a pretty good sized lawn, with a pretty good sized hill. Nevertheless, when I mow my lawn I use a cordless electric mower. I love the thing—as much as one can love something that can’t love back—for a number of reasons, among them the relative quietness of its motor, and its lack of dumping gas and oil exhaust into the atmosphere.
The drawback to this mower is that, save for those few glorious weeks at the very beginning and very end of the mowing season, it really doesn’t have enough giddyup to do the whole lawn on one charge. So, I end up mowing twice a week, half the lawn or thereabouts at a time. No prob, really; I can use the exercise.
The biggest prob, as it were, is keeping up with doing it twice a week when we have summers like this one with a lot of rain. It seems like any time we actually get even half of a dry day I have to mow, because more rain is surely right around the corner. Today is a perfect example: I went home at lunch and mowed because I was just sure it was going to rain later, and indeed as I now write this, it’s pouring outside.
Today was the backyard, and though now that it’s raining it’s probably in the 70’s, earlier today it was probably mid to upper 80’s as I did my lawn manicuring. However, though it was quite hot, I noticed today that I wasn’t sweating as much as I was two days ago when I did the front. That was interesting to me because that was in the evening, and it was quite a bit cooler, but man was it humid. It was like pushing the mower through a swimming pool. I was just drenched.
That was a two-shower day, as was today, which I am sure my coworkers appreciate. The importance of daily bathing, and sometimes multiple daily bathing, cannot be overstated. It’s a good thing I really enjoy showers, because I have been taking a surfeit of them this summer. Plus, there is really nothing quite as delightful as a shower you’ve really earned by working up a good sweat. Everyone benefits from my lack of odor.
Speaking of things that stink, here is my Friday the 13th horror story of the day: I don’t usually have occasion to take lunch to work. I usually go home to eat (and sometimes mow), or go out with coworkers under the guise of a ‘business lunch.’ A week or so ago, though, I knew I was going to be too busy to use either of those options, so I packed a little lunch of a sandwich and some cut up summer fruit.
The fruit was mostly good, but there was one piece of cantaloupe that looked a bit long in the tooth. I elected to not eat it, and sealed it back in the plastic container I brought it in. At the end of the day I took my lunch bag home (it’s one of those insulated reusable bags) and, thinking it empty, put it back where it belongs.
Fast forward a week to today. Since I mowed today, and have a list of things to do at work that rivals a family of eight’s shopping list in length, I had a quick couple of bites of leftover macaroni and cheese (oops, is my bachelorhood showing?) and went to load my lunch bag with a thing or two I could eat at my desk later (I’ve yet to find the time to do that, by the way).
Imagine my horror when I unzipped my lunch bag and found that plastic container inside. Surprisingly, the cantaloupe didn’t look all that much worse for wear for having sat unrefrigerated for a week, but I just knew the smell was not going to be a highlight of my day. I briefly considered just throwing the container in the garbage, but I ultimately decided that that would be the wimp’s way out. I’m better than that.
It was not without trepidation that I set out to pay the price for my lack of attentiveness at the end of that workday last week when I blithely tossed the bag aside. I activated the faucet and garbage disposal, got it all revved up to speed, took a deep breath and held it, and opened the container. The cantaloupe slid down the disposal like it was dipped in butter and was soon washed away. I squirted some soap in the container and got some good suds going. I thought I was in pretty good shape, until I exhaled. The inhalation that followed will go down as one of my top ten least favorite breaths ever.
I find it impossible to describe the stench in such a way that will truly give you, dear reader, an adequate representation of the experience. If you can imagine the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, we can just call it close enough. This was one time that I was glad to have such a busy afternoon at work awaiting me that I was unable to dilly-dally around at home. I exited the house with alacrity, leaving the cat to deal with it, and just hoping that the offending odor would dissipate by the time I returned. Just in case it hasn’t abated, I did grab a clothespin for my nose on my way out the door. I may have to use it.