Woman vs. Machine

I mowed MY grass for the first time today.

Enter machine.

I borrowed my brother's lawn mower for the day and set out to beautify MY lawn. Dressed to kill in short shorts, bikini top and a cute tank, I set out to execute a task I have accomplished numerous times in my life.

I pushed the lawn mower into the yard, grasped the handle, and started pulling. Once, twice, nothing else. Okay, I can do this.

Pull again.

Once, barely twice, nothing again the third time.

Okay, now I'm starting to get frustrated.

After using a few choice words against the lawn mower, and (of course I would never tell my brother this part...) kicking the stupid thing, I decided to be bigger than the machine.

I sat down, eye to gas tank with the lawn mower. I studied it. Thought about what makes it tick. Gas? Check. Oil? Check. Did I prime it? Yes.

Out of the blue a thought popped into my head. Does it have to be on level ground to start? Bing! The light bulb went on. I jumped up, moved the mower to level ground...first pull, ba-bing! VRROOMMMMM!!!!

SUCCESS!!!!

I struggled two other times with the mower throughout the afternoon, and when I cut the final square of lawn, I released the handlebar, and shouted for no one to hear but me, "And THAT'S how you mow grass!"

After that, I went and bought an electric weed eater with a push button start.

I win.