...but it's borderline acceptable.
With Richard needing extra help around the yard this summer, the job fell on me.
I don't mind. I just hope he doesn't.
I've never successfully weed-whacked before. I've never successfully whipper-snipped, either.
So, I think that for a first time, I did okay.
After a half-hour, my legs were unsteady, I was sweating, my
hands shook like jelly and my muscles felt like I'd just bench pressed a water buffalo.
Richard (who has very high standards that he can't keep from enforcing) intentionally
refused to look my way, which is
exactly what a man who wishes to stay married ought to do.
I'm still waiting for the shaking to stop.
Okay, so the job isn't to professional standards. Under the trampoline kind of reminds me
of the time Eva gave herself a haircut.
Let's be honest, though. Trimming isn't about pretty. It's about destroying any potential
breeding grounds for alders and copperhead snakes.
I think I succeeded at that.
Considering all I had to work with was a gas powered stick and a spinning piece of nylon string,
I think I did just fine.