Grass Cutting

Whew! Just got done mowing the grass for the first time this year. Now let's see. At least once a week, four weeks a month, seven months. Hey, only 112 more cuttings and I'm done for the season. At two hours total each cut, I spend approximately 226 hours every season cutting grass. That's almost ten 24 hour days dedicated to my lawn! That doesn't include the fertilizing, flower beds, yada, yada, yada. I don't think I spend that much time with my kids. Or my wife, for that matter. I should legally adopt my lawn so I can claim it on my taxes, just like the kids. Actually, now that I'm sitting here thinking about it, I'm beginning to like my lawn more than my kids. My lawn doesn't back talk. It doesn't fight me to eat a meal. No poopy pants, boogers on the wall, or any other bodily fluid mishaps. (Clean up in isle seven!) In the winter, it leaves you alone for months. My lawn didn't once say this past winter, "Dad, I'm bored!" And, if you don't like the way your lawn is turning out, just plow it under and start over. Try doing that with your kids. "Uh, son. We don't like the way your turning out, so to make a long story short, your mother's pregnant and your out." That's why we had Aaron. We screwed up the first two so bad, we figured the third time's the charm! Although I have to say my lawn doesn't always do as I say. "I don't like the looks of that crabgrass next door. You stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble." But it invites crabgrass over anyway. Then I have to be the bad guy and send his new friend packing. Hey, that's another advantage of a lawn over a kid. You don't like his new friend he brought home, you kill him! No discussions. No arguments. Just Round-up. Problem solved. Wow, don't ask me where this pile of rambling crap came from. Maybe Mom took too many happy pills when she was pregnant with me. After all, the third time's the charm. The first two are obviously screwed up! Just kidding. Just kidding. I should probably stop now. Later.