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Mowing is half the battle -- the other half is not screaming at spiders
Published: 5/31/2012 7:00 AM
Last Modified: 5/30/2012 4:45 PM


The view from my front door. Just kidding (but it seemed pretty close recently).

Does hydrogen peroxide expire?

I ask because the half bottle I poured on my blistered hands Monday burned a tad like acid, or at least how I imagine acid to feel like based on horror films. In fact, I even looked at the bottle to make sure it wasn't drain cleaner or something.

Alas, it was just the good ol' fashioned feel of hydrogen peroxide on an open wound, courtesy of nearly three hours behind a push mower -- the first time I'd mowed a yard since I was 19.

In case y'all haven't picked up on this in previous columns or blogs, I loathe yard work. Dad used to use yard work as punishment -- or, at least, that's how I viewed it when he'd ask me to assist him with lawn work. Surely, hell is an endless, shade-free yard that must always be mowed.

But after two weeks of purposefully coming home after dark so I didn't have to see my horrible front yard, which was actually better than the back one, I figured it was time to mow. One night, I even dreamed the neighbors were texting me about it, plotting to contact the city if I didn't bush-hog it soon.

As I don't own a mower and lack the desire to buy anything mechanical that doesn't play a movie or dispense ice, I borrowed Nellie's -- loaded it up in my Corolla, rigged a couple of bungee cords (one stretched accidentally from one end of the mower to the other end, not even touching the trunk) and made it home, having driven 10 miles under the limit for fear the mower would fly out the back and maim someone.

The mowing itself went relatively well, as far as unpleasant tedium goes -- I mean, other than developing blisters by the end of the first hour. I took a break, drank nearly a liter of water and a few big gulps of Gatorade, then looked for some yard gloves like Dad used to give me when I had to rake pine straw. But I couldn't find any, so I had to use dishwashing gloves. Lemme tell ya, those suckers were hotter than a crack whore at an August tent revival; but my hands felt better.

Obviously, I'm (1) a big ol' wuss and (2) horribly out of shape because my back kept hurting. By the end of hour No. 2, my back was pretty much horizontal with the lawn -- which, in the back, was thick with the occasional three-foot weed.

While mowing, I spied a mole or a groundhog or prairie critter, whatever, which probably explains why my back yard feels like I'm walking across an old plywood floor -- quite springy. I also saw my first ever fiddle-back spider, perhaps the patriarch of the family that has taken residence on and under the ramp to my back shed. That'll be a future nightmare.

Two hours and 45 minutes later, I was done mowing. Now, it was time to eat weeds -- or, at least, it should've been.

Mr. Clean loaned me his weed eater, even showed me how to use it. But I kept yanking the string and pushing the gas thingy while holding the trigger or whatever it's called, and nothing ever happened. Yank, yank, yank, yank, yank ... Nothin'. It was like the world's clunkiest, most useless See 'n Say.

Probably for the best because I walked like Quasimodo back into the house, collapsed on the floor and tried doing a sloppy version of the Happy Baby yoga pose to ease the tension in my back. Then, I screamed at one of my cat's hair balls, thinking my death by fiddle-back spider was imminent.

But I'm really, really proud of myself for mowing my own yard. I've been coming home before dark the past two nights, and I actually enjoy looking out the back door vs. pretending nothing existed beyond my laundry room.

Home ownership has it's little blessings, I guess -- even if my lawn occasionally looks like a portal to hell.

Peace, love and hydrogen peroxide ... XOXO


Reader Comments 3 Total
KnightRider2008 (9 months ago)
You are too funny!
tdlrenault (9 months ago)
Epsom salts honey! It'll burn like hell too but it will definitely help those blisters next time....though, gloves would certainly be the better option. :)
lowe (9 months ago)
Jason always makes me laugh. Out loud. In my office...
3 comments displayed


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Living Wright

While other kids were watching "The Smurfs," Scene Writer Jason Ashley Wright was tuned in to "Style with Elsa Klensch." By fourth grade, he knew he wanted to write, and spent almost three years publishing a weekly teen-oriented magazine, Teen-Zine -- circulation: 2. After earning a degree in journalism from the University of Southern Mississippi, he became the medical reporter and teen board coordinator for the Hattiesburg (Miss.) American, a Gannett newspaper. Eight months later, with visions of Elsa dancing in his head, he applied for the fashion writer position at the Tulsa World, where he began working on Aug. 3, 1998. He is now a general assignment reporter for Scene.

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