I don't mow lawns. Not since I was about fourteen years old. See what had happened...
My mom married this wackadoo, but that's beside the point.
Anyway, he moved us to the outskirts of civilization, a tiny town in east Texas called Yantis. Go find yourselves a map, see if you can find it. I'll wait.
That was fun, right?
Anyway, I was mowing the vast lawn one afternoon when I looked waaay across the other side of the yard to see my new uncle helping my step dad to his feet. He had blood pouring down his face from a lovely gash on his forehead. I stopped the mowed, and ran over. When I asked what happened, my new uncle said, "you did this."
Well, there was a loose bolt on the underside of the mower. It fell off, hit the blade and shot across the yard where it hit that guy in the melon. I haven't touch a lawn mower since. Just recently Mr. D. has recruited the two older girls to lawn mowing.
Just recently to my knowledge. Apparently they've been doing it for a while.
At any rate, my middle daughter was tasked with mowing the lawn last Saturday. I was nervous about the whole thing, but Mr. D. had no concerns (obviously). However, half an hour later my oldest saunters into my room and announced "Meenie ran over a stump with the lawn mower."
So, Mr. D. had to purchase another blade. Bear in mind this is the first blade change on our ten year old mower. Which means he doesn't know how to remove or reinstall said blade. Thankfully, we live in the age of YouTube so there is a video for anything right at one's fingers.
After replacing the blade, Mr. D. tells me that he needs to review the video once more just to be sure he installed it correctly. "I followed the video instructions to take it off then used the reverse to put it back on," he tells me, "but I want to review the video anyway so we can avoid any unfortunate accidents." And that's how this post came to be. I truly, truly hope there is nothing more to add to this story.