When C came home he said our tiny backyard was not a yard and therefore not worthy of a lawn mower. He came from the country where his family owns acres and acres and acres of land. I come from the city where houses are sometimes six-feet from each other (or less). To me, it has grass, the grass grows, it's a yard.
He bought a weed-eater.
And so for two months him or I have been "cutting" our grass with a weed-eater.
Yes, we are those people. Yes, I am embarrassed.
Last night I finally convinced C that since he was leaving for an unknown amount of time on TDY, I needed a lawn mower. I would no longer be that girl. I would no longer have uneven grass. My slight OCD couldn't take it anymore. If I was going to be doing this on my own, I needed a lawn mower - self-propelled, with an attached bag. Last night we went to Lowe's and bought a lawn mower - push, with an attached bag.
Today, C put the lawn mower together and left to fill up the portable gas tank. I went to the backyard to move the boy's climber and stopped when I saw the climber already on our patio. For a split second I thought C moved it before he left. And then I saw the lawn.
It was cut.
C didn't do it.
What are the odds?
The Army gods are funny. Their timing is amazing. And I'm not telling them my husband's not deployed. ; )