I had a mow guy for a couple of years. It was nice to come home to a freshly shortened lawn and swept sidewalks and occasionally some edging.
But mow guy wanted to be paid for this. And we wanted to be paid a lot. And he also wanted to be paid for not mowing. And for cleaning up leaves that he didn't actually clean up.
He's not my mow guy any more.
So now, I'm mowing my own lawn.
Not very often, as my neighbors probably "Tsk. Tsk." about. I like to give my mower a challenge. When the grass reaches the dog's belly, it's time for a trim.
I don't mind the effort. I don't mind the time. I actually like having the opportunity to think. It's just such a dirty job.
When it's all over, I'm covered with grass and dust and pollen, lots and lots of pollen, all glued to me through the magic of sweat. And we can't forget all of the grass, dust, and pollen that take up residence in my respiratory system. That's fun, too! (cough, cough, hack, cough, sneeze)
I mowed today, after sleeping in, checking in on the boy's baseball game, another glorious day at the speedway, and a short run.
Now that I think about it... small price to pay, really.
Good running,
Doug
Numbers: 1.3 miles squeezed in... barely.
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