I have been gone since last week, so the inside and outside of the house is a mess. My unemployment has me earning my keep by mowing the lawn. Which frankly I find therapeutic. I like the sensation of accomplishment as I look behind me at what I have already mowed. The feeling that, “yep, I did that.”
Again folks, it’s the unemployment blues.
Although when you look inside my house and see three smiling children and a dirty house, I also get that same sense of accomplishment.
So in a flip of a coin as to where to begin, I decided a beautiful day calls for being outside.
Mowing the yard it is.
First step is to pick up the massive amounts of stuffed animals, soccer balls, tennis balls, various plastic items, and whatever else the little dog has stolen. I get the lawn mower out of the shed, battling one of the biggest spiders blocking the door, and get ready for my grassy workout.
My observation for the day is the help that I always seem to get when I mow the lawn. Well, help might not be the right word.
As soon as I start the lawn mower, the little dog seems to be playing a game of chicken with me, which mind you, I always win. When she gets bored with that game she tends to begin collecting her toys that I have placed on the patio and begins to redistribute them in the side of the yard that I have not gotten to yet.
Middle dog feels the need to lie in the basking sun right in my path of mowing. She actually has the nerve to look annoyed at my making her move. Now, it is not like I have an enormous yard.
Not big enough for a goat. The Muppets want a goat. Truth be told, so do I.
Goats are so entertaining.
Once when I was younger, my father and I decided we were going to get a goat. My mother was away at the time so it was prime time to get a goat. We went to a goat farm and found a cute baby pygmy goat. It was groundhogs day so we named him Shadow. We had the goat neutered. I don’t know how many people neuter a goat, but we were told that would help minimize his smell.
Maybe I forgot to mention, we were going to have the goat live in our backyard, it was also pretty big at the time, but not farm land big.
Anyway, for the brief bit of time until my mother came home, that goat lived in our back yard and in our house. We let it come and go with three little dachshunds, a giant schnauzer, and two cats.
It had a little difficulty maneuvering his hoofs on the tile in the kitchen, but once it got through there, the hardwood in the rest of the house was fine.
Shadow was a cute goat. Not cute enough for my mother to let him stay in the house. We had to move Shadow to the stables where we had a horse at the time. He had another goat to play with, Goat-Goat. I had nothing to do with that name.
Shadow and Goat-Goat were fast friends, and together they provided copious amounts of entertainment evoking massive amounts of laughter.
That’s what happens when city folk move to the country. That was also a normal day with my father.
I managed to get the back yard done, which is, I think the easier yard to mow, with the exception of dogs, toys, and the occasional land mine.
I got the side yard done too.
Now the front is a bit of a hill and where my work out really begins. Yet today, no work out.
I think I broke the lawn mower? It just stopped. Okay, so a little bit of gurgling, and then it stopped. When I try to start it again I can’t pull the starter stringy thing.
Now I am annoyed, because when I look at the yard, it is incomplete and I am worried what my employers will say. I mean this is one way I have been earning my keep.
I saw on the news the other night that somewhere in the city they have brought in a bunch of goats to clear the vegetation of an overgrown city neighborhood.
Maybe getting a goat is not such a bad idea after all?