Mowing the lawn = TBW

What does TBW mean?  Well, I'll tell you. :-D  It means Total Body Workout.

Our grass had gotten long.  Really long. 

 

Ok, that isn't my lawn and it wasn't THAT tall.  But it was close.  It had been quite a while since we'd last mowed, but since Josh is busy and gone so much, and he's the primary lawn-mower-er, it just kept getting put off.

So I decided that it'd be pretty nice of me to surprise Josh and do it myself. *ahem*  I must admit I did try to get my brother to do it for me, but he had to work.  And I do know how to operate a lawn mower; I used to mow lawns for money when I was younger.  But it's been a while.  Like, 18 years or something. :-O

So, we'll skip over the part where it took me a good ten minutes to even get the thing started and go straight to the actual mowing part.  It was hard. Really, really hard.  Our yard is on a bit of a hill, and I had to use my entire body, straining and grunting, to get the mower up the hill in the tall grass.

Pretty much, I felt like this girl.  Except, I was pushing the mower up the hill.

 

It took a while and I was sweating and my heart was pounding and my legs were aching and I just generally felt like I was have a stroke/heart attack/aneurysm and the worst part was the lawn didn't even look good. There were large chunks of grass everywhere, and the lawn looked like a kid who had taken scissors to their own head.

 

Except, in lawn form.  A little something like this.

 

With a side of this thrown in.

 

It was bad.  Very bad.

Luckily, my husband came home, saw that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown/stroke/heart attack/aneurysm and took pity on me.  He sent me inside to lay down and finished the job.

But not before telling me there are actually different settings on the lawn mower.  So I could have raised that sucker up 3 inches and had a MUCH easier time mowing. 

I'm still sore.  And I'll leave the lawn mowing duties to my husband.  Or maybe I'll just hire a goat next time.

(That is not my yard.  Or my goat.)