I Should Be Showering

I had a lazy day. Lately, I've been having lots of those. I've been doing summer school in the mornings, but my afternoons seem to go nowhere, fast. How is it that the leisure time doesn't go as slowly as the work time? There MUST be some scientific proof out there. Eventually, though, I am overcome with guilt (sometimes by, say, 2pm...other times by, say, 6pm), whether from the thought that my husband has worked his arse off all day and will shortly be home to sweetly ask what I did with the day, or from the ever-present voice of my mother echoing in my brain listing off all the things that she does before I even wake up. For whatever reason, I'm grateful to the guilt for making me slightly less of a couch potato and slightly better of a person.

Today, the duty that I chose to undertake killed two birds with one stone. Er. I don't like that saying, especially with a new bird feeder on our front lawn. Iiiiiiiiiit waaaaaas two for the price of one. Yeah, that works. Anyhoo, I chose to mow the lawn. I WAS going to do it tomorrow since I believed that the weather was going to be right for it, but I figured I'd have enough time before any raindrops appeared to get the job done.

So, this chore may seem mundane and average, but I promise you, it isn't. Generally, it's Dave's job. I can count on one hand the number of times I've mowed the lawn, and still have fingers left over. It's one of those things that I wasn't really allowed to do as a kid (although I knew that women could do everything), and that Dave's just taken upon himself to do. Sure, there are things I'd do differently about it (kind of like our shovel debate - tomato, tom-ah-to), but as long as the neighbors don't complain, we're all happy.

No. Not Winston. It's his Papa (or Mama?)
affectionately referred to by our neighbor as "Smokey".
Best fed stray in the whole neighborhood.

Other than, obviously, getting the actual job of mowing done (which was going to be put off a week longer than it usually gets done, due to weather and busy-ness), I'd also be getting some exercise and (possibly the best part) surprising Dave with an additional job that he wouldn't have to do. Oh, and while I see you smirking over there that there's little exercise to be had in mowing, let-me-tell-YOU, friend...it's WORK. We use the old-fashioned push kind (ie no gasoline, eco-friendly), and when the grass is generally cut to a higher length (it's supposed to kill weeds naturally...riiiight) AND a week and a half since last being mowed AND there was plenty of rain in the forecast...it's cardiovascular action, baby. Lots o' sweat. Lots o' convulsing motions to get the danged thing going. Lots o' undoubtedly giggling elderly neighbors watching from their kitchen windows.

Scary.

As I prepared to go out, the cats caught wind of something strange. My guess is, they were disturbed that I was dispensing with my perma-throne in the living room for an activity that involved motion. Maybe I learn that sedentary behavior from them. Hmm. ANYhoo, Winston ended up watching me from atop his perch in our front sun room while I heaved the archaic machine across the mounds of weeds-with-a-smattering-of-grass, then from atop his tall kitchen stool (I'm telling myself, and believing, that he wasn't on the table...let's all just pretend he didn't do that, shall we?) while I laughed quite loudly in the backyard when the rumble of thunder belched at me. Yes, I'm quite sure the neighbors did get quite a laugh over their casual dinner.

BUT, although the sprinkling was turning to an actual "turn on the windshield wipers" drizzle, I won the mowing game. The rain put up an admirable fight, but I was simply too determined (and clearly deranged - LAUGHING up at the SKY, woman?!) to lose. I wanted to, in a strange way, make my husband proud of me. I wanted to take some burden off of his shoulders. I wanted to get a workout in, dang it! And I did. And, NOW, I shall shower, for the cats are giving me stinky face.

But first, some superfluous shots of my tomaters, which I snapped before mowing. We planted them in planters this year as not to overtake our garden (which, itself, is quite overgrown. Those purple stalks in the right background up in that grass picture? Lettuce. Nope, that's not supposed to happen. I allowed it. I'm naughty. (But we did get good use out of them!))