Long-term readers will recall with great delight some of the silly things about me that I have shared with you over the years. How I buy Hallowe'en candy in November when it's half price and store it in my freezer for 11 months and 29 days and then thaw it out and give it to the children who come by my house on the 31st of October of the following year, or maybe even the year after that if I bought enough in reserve. How I postpone washing my dishes until I have to go buy paper plates and must resort to plastic cutlery. How I have beautiful, lustrous hair that's the envy of most women.
I have been leaving one thing out.
I feel I must tell you in the context of completeness.
I hate mowing my lawn.
I mow my mother's lawn without hesitation. I mow at the cottage so frequently that it seems that as soon as I finish, I have to start again. But I hate mowing my own lawn.
This evening, after dinner, with great reluctance, I plugged in the electric lawn mower and mowed the front lawn. It only took me about 20 minutes, but it felt like 25 or 27. Sweat pored off parts of my body and collected in pools on other parts of my body that I don't feel comfortable discussing with you. Insects that resented losing their summer homes decided to give me a hard time. Reminded me a little of high school.
I returned the lawn mower to my shed and went back into the house. There was carrot cake for dessert. It was Vegan so that means that all the fun had been removed from it before it was sold to the public.
My allergies were acting up so I had an early shower. I am upstairs in my bedroom in my jammies prior to turning in for the night.
And, thus endeth yet another blog post and another night in the life that is... Bevboy's.
See you tomorrow.
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