John and I have still not established rapport. In fact, I think he hates me. He shows me in no uncertain terms that he wishes he'd been adopted by some large guy who lived on flat property, not some wimpy lady out in the hilly boonies. It being a cool morning, I was actually looking forward to getting at least some of the yards cut down after barn chores. Because I'd not approached John in awhile, I had some concern that his battery might have died again (his previous act of revenge), but he fired right up and I was hopeful. Because he'd run out of gas on our last outing, the side yard looked like it was wearing a Mohawk with high weeds in the middle, so that was where we headed first. Like all the property here, the yards end in a slope. John does not like to drive on a slope, but not as much as I hate making him go there. He is exceptionally top heavy and it feels like he's going to tip over and he scares the snot out of me. I had to find a different pattern than the one Fu Manchu and I had driven happily for so many years. Okay, I can adapt. The side yard mowed, I rewarded John with a full tank of gas and started on the front yard. The slopes there were even worse, and there were a couple of times I yelped in fear. I refuse to be cowed by a cranky machine, changed the mowing pattern, and carried on. John plotted revenge. There are numerous squirrel burrows in the front yard (what a surprise), each with its mound of dug-up dirt. Even at the highest setting, John's mowing deck is very low. We plowed over most, throwing up rolling clouds of dust in the breeze. Note to self: do not wear a white shirt when mowing. Second note to self: close the front door before mowing. While making a turn, John took the opportunity to bury the deck in dirt and we came to an abrupt halt. Wheels spinning, he would not go forward, he would not back up. Try as I might, there was no way I could pull or push him out of the dirt. John won that round. Now it's the front yard that has a new hairdo.
Thwarted, I went in the house and texted Beau, asking for help, and waited to hear back. The best way to deal with frustration is to keep busy, so decided to give the house some attention. Found out I still could not get the vacuum cleaner to run, so no help there. Okay, I went in to dry mop the kitchen. Bessie Anne followed me in and laid down in the path and would not move. Consequently, the floor bears a resemblance to the yards with a patch unmopped. And Beau hadn't made contact. I kept on with this and that, still hoping. It wasn't until dark that Beau texted back, saying he and his family were camping for the weekend, but he'd be here on Sunday. That's why John is sitting outside. I hope he learns his lesson.
Bessie Anne seems to have recovered fully, went in and out, followed me everywhere (see above), and her tail wagged all day. That was the best thing that happened all day.
1 comment:
Oh my...thwarted indeed. "Mohawks R Us!"
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