Hard to believe that the grass is tall enough to mow already, but it is. I didn't want to cut down the violets (because, y'know...violets) and it probably could have waited another week or so but come Tuesday I will start another two week stretch of work and I know I won't feel like mowing in those few moments I have to myself.
The thing is, I am a
And so it was. Much like last year, I pulled and tugged and adjusted and huffed and puffed but the mower wouldn't start. I googled "lawn mower maintenance" to see what I should have done and how to fix it now. That was depressing, let me tell you. All of the sites I checked told me that I
Well, I am a capable girl. I am mechanically-inclined but not
Something told me to check the spark plug. I took it out and it was wet so I dried it off with a paper towel and put it back in. More pulls on the starter cord thingy (yes, it's a technical term) but no action. So I took the spark plug out, wiped it off really well, wiped out the hole it screws into, and let the spark plug sit to dry for 15 minutes or so.
I have to admit that during this 15 minute break, I cried. Sat down on my sunny, warm patio and indulged in a soul-cleansing weep. I really try to make the best of my life but I am tired of being the only one responsible for everything. I want a partner, a husband, someone who loves me who will share the burden with me. It's funny, it's something fairly small like starting the lawn mower that always brings this out in me. I am perfectly able to take care of myself...but I want someone who wants to take care of me. But I digress...
I stood up, wiped my face, and walked to the mower. I screwed the spark plug back in place and popped the spark plug connector thingy (another technical term) on top. "This is it," I declared to the mower, God, and myself. "If this doesn't work, I quit!"
Pulled back the safety handle, grabbed the pull cord, and yanked. Hard. And the mower growled into life.
I laughed, shook my head and started to mow the yard, congratulating myself for thinking to dry off the spark plug. But I refuse to believe that's what did the trick.
Yep, sometimes threats do work.
Big smooches to those of you who told me how to do strikethroughs. I