When I first bought my house I had to buy a lawn mower. I actually wrote a story about that experience. Here’s how I described what happened.
Saturday morning – 9 a.m. There was that horrible sound again. All my neighbors were starting their lawnmowers. The steady hum of all their machines gliding effortlessly over all those beautifully manicured lawns was just too much for me on that particular morning. My conscience finally got the best of me and I resolved that the time had come to break down and buy a lawnmower.
It may not sound like a big deal, but I managed to blow it totally out of proportion. It had become a task as intimidating as purchasing a new car from a slick salesman. Being a single woman that was truly frightening! I jumped in my car, opened the garage door, pulled out and got away before any of my neighbors had a chance to yell at me about the height of my grass and their falling property values.
I drove into the parking lot of the local home and garden superstore and summoned all my courage as I prepared to face my fate. “Please, God, let the perfect lawnmower be here for me,” I pleaded silently. I walked into the gigantic warehouse and the first thing I saw was a lawnmower. A chill went up my spine.
It was a brand name. That was good - I assumed. It offered features that were on my wish list. It was electric (no gas, gas cans, fires, explosions, etc.). It was cordless (no running over the extension cord every time I used it like my mom always did). It mulched (no stopping every few feet to haul heavy bags of clippings). It would go for an hour before needing to be charged so it should do most of my lawn on one charge. It could adjust to even jungle high grass (I could quickly tame my lawn before my neighbors got a petition together to have me evicted). Whoa! Could this be true? It was affordable. Fully assembled, it would only set me back $180, plus tax of course.
This was too much for me. There had to be a mistake. I wasn’t 20 feet from the entrance and here was the perfect lawnmower. Unbelieving, I walked past this machine and approached the section with all the lawn and garden equipment. There they were – at least 50 different lawnmowers of all shapes and sizes just waiting to cut me down to size. They mulched, bagged, blew, raked, aerated, thatched, tilled, dug, edged and chewed and spit out grass in all manners imaginable. Some you could ride on, some propelled themselves and some required person power. The prices ranged from ouch to aargh.
I could feel the pain in my pocketbook, my head started to throb and my knees were getting weak. A salesman approached. Oh, no. I’m doomed. “I need a lawnmower and I don’t have much money, and I don’t want to have to deal with gas or bags or extension cords or clippings or any of that stuff”, I gushed before he could say a word.
The salesman smiled knowingly and took me gently by the arm. “I think we have just what you’re looking for,” he said reassuringly. “Why don’t you come over here and let me show you what I recommend.” In a daze, I followed him to a spot about 20 feet from the front door of the store where the salesman pointed to that lawnmower I spotted when I first came in to the store
I was stunned and stood in disbelief while he told me why this was the perfect lawnmower for me. Fate, I thought. I requested assistance from heaven, it was provided, and as usual, I ignored it. The salesman helped me wheel the fully assembled beauty to the checkout stand, made sure they charged me the correct price, and then helped me put it into my car.
I drove home with an incredible feeling of relief, suddenly noticing that the sun was shining, birds were singing and people were happy and smiling. I pulled into my driveway, hopped out of the car, threw open the back of my car, and called to the man across the street (in my loudest voice so all my neighbors could hear) to come help me get my new lawnmower out of the car.
A crowd gathered round as we pulled it out and put it on the ground. I could hear the murmurs of approval and oohs and aahs as it started flawlessly and began to mow through the calf high grass that would soon, once again, be my lawn.
It’s been a while now since that first wonderful day of mowing madness overtook me. Gradually I lowered the wheels until the lawn reached the perfect height, cut by the perfect lawnmower. I am the envy of every woman in the neighborhood (and secretly many of the men) - me and my cordless, electric beauty.