End of the Season

Spring has sprung early in Small Town this year. Our lovely mild winter (thank you, Kansas, and please remember how much we love you when we're cursing you in August!) has meant our phlox and whatever-the-heck-that-pretty-purple-flower-is are several weeks ahead of their usual blossoming date.

For most people the early spring was not a problem, but for those of us for whom the year has only two seasons (Tax and Non-Tax) the warm weather has led to a clash of priorities.

My accountant Husband normally takes the week after tax season ends to catch up on chores that have been postponed, and this usually is perfectly coordinated with the first lawn mowing. This year, though, the overachieving lawn was way ahead of his schedule. (Oddly, Mother Nature turns out to be much more flexible than Uncle Sam.)

Last weekend I went so far as to pull the mower out of the garage and try to start it. My I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar attitude lasted just long enough for my right shoulder to start hurting as I yanked the starter cord over, and over, and over to no avail.

So Monday at breakfast I mentioned that I might be trying to mow the lawn with the hedge clippers. I came home for lunch to find the following:

Hooray! It's a mowed lawn! With a Mohawk haircut!

I was properly enthusiastic about the mowing, but when I asked Husband why he had left the one little strip unclipped, he looked at me blankly.

"You know, at the time I thought it would be funny, but I don't remember why."

You may not want him to do your surgery this week--I think sleep deprivation is setting in.