Thursday, June 28, 2007

Wack Job

My super sweet neighbour, I'll call him Danny* (*not his real name), has been helping me with my lawn maintenance. My other neighbour, I'll call him Chip* (again, not his real name), has also been giving me a hand (With his shirt on this time. And trust me, that's a good thing).

Between Chip using his ride-on mower and Danny using his weed wacker, I've barely had to lift a finger so far this summer. It probably helps that I always express how thankful I am for their assistance. Toss in a couple of eyelash flutters, and a short skirt with flip flops, and ta-da! I've got myself a couple of lawn boys. Kind of like pool boys, but without the water/ requests to have help with my sun tan oil.

Danny wanted to make sure my boyfriend wouldn't mind that he was helping me. Awww. Isn't that sweet? Ofcourse I quickly set the record straight. Lawn boys = 2, boyfriends = 0

Yesterday, Danny asked if I wanted to try out his weed wacker. Ofcourse, being the adventureous girl that I am, I said yes. Well, because Danny is: a) a guy and b) bigger than me, the weed wacker looked a lot smaller when he was wielding it like a knight's sword. But when he brought it out of the shed, it was almost as big as I was.

Danny got it started for me, and showed me what the buttons did. It was gas powered so the trigger gave it a "vroom vroom" sound like an engine reving, or a high powered chain saw. I could hardly contain my excitement...I am woman, hear me roar (over the loud roar of my high powered weed wacker).

And then...

I tried to use it.

It was like the machine had a mind of it's own. Plus is was heavier than a dead body (or something). So I could barely move it around. I was throwing my whole body into getting it to move - then it turned into this pendulum-esque swinging motion. Back and forth, back and forth.

Let's just say, it was a massacre. Grass was flying like muppet fur. I decapitated a cedar post holding up my front step. And those poor flowers, they never saw it coming.

The whole "rein of terror" probably only lasted 60 seconds. I shut off the machine. And half carried, half dragged it to Danny. Naturally, he was trying to maintain composure. Which wasn't helped by the fact I was laughing hysterically.

I felt like such a...girl and I needed to be rescued by the big strong man. Danny told me he doesn't mind taking care of it for me anyway. I wonder if his wife minds?

I guess good fences do make good neighbours. Although, I don't have a fence around my house. Maybe it's cute single girls make good neighbours.

5 comments:

Ashley said...

just found your blog.

laughing my ass off at this one...

it does pay to be cute in a skirt & flip flops!

(also, no way in hell could i weed wack.)

James said...

Sounds like a funny scene - did you have witnesses?

Erika said...

Ashley: I'm glad I'm not the only one :)

James: Just "Danny". I was too busy laughing to notice anyone else. I'm sure the rest of the neighbours were peeking out their windows.

Starboard Tack said...

That is absolutely true: all married guys like having cute single girls as neighbors ... actually, I think I can leave off the word "married" and be even more accurate.

Charlene said...

Oh Erika! I can totally relate! You know how big my Hubby is and he's been working ALOT- so I thought I'd do the weed wacking myself! UGH! It took me a half hour to just start the stupid thing. (after I realized it was out of gas it started much quicker) HEAVY!! My arms were on vibrate the rest of the day. Not pretty. I masacured my favorite geraniums!
My husband, being the wonderful guy he is, bought me a harness to ease the discomfort. Of course, I acted all thankful, but haven't attempted the wacking since.