The lawnmower

[by Doc, circa 2005]

My wife likes mowing lawns. Really. So much so that I never need to get the lawnmower out. You can guarrantee that if a single blade of grass rears its ugly head on the verdant green baize that surrounds our house, she will fire up the lawnmower and mercilessly decapitate it.

A few years back,I indulged her grass-molesting fetish by buying a top of the line grassmolester. Briggs and Stratton Commercial 4 stroke engine, extra wide cut, self-propelled with commercial grade chipper chute and heavy-duty catcher. My beloved was delighted [a fact that left me somewhat bemused but satisfied]. Of the many capital items that have been bought at her behest, this one is by far and away the one that has been received most enthusiastically. It gets polished at the end of each outing, serviced regularly, tender words are directed towards it and it's every need dutifully met.In short, she is a better wife to the lawnmower than she is to me.In return, this lawnmower has behaved faultlessly.For the last 5 years or more, it has diligently digested every scrap of green scalp over which it has passed.It has roared enthusiastically into life at the first pull of its stout cord,idled like a purring kitten when unattended , and travelled countless circuits of our lawns without stuttering or throwing it's spark plug in a fiery arc before it[as was the demise of its predecessor].

This marvelous machine has afforded me many hours of relative peace, its steady drone drowning out the less tolerable drone of 'er indoors.It is in my eyes a godsend.

Last night, while quietly enjoying my favourite television programme,[the one where a cheap and ordinary Japanese sedan gets driven round the same race circuit for the hundredth time by some Brit I've never heard of], a minor miracle occured.My wife started a conversation.

"Mower needs looking at.Wouldn't start at all.Wouldn't even make the noise like it's going to start."

I took a deep breath, tore my eyes away from the Cool Wall, and replied.

"Perhaps if you had told me while it was still daylight, I could have looked at it. I'll look tomorrow."

She gave me that look, coupled with the 'huh' noise. I need explain no further for the married men, but for those who are not thus afflicted, it is a half second expression of complete contempt for your husband's unwillingness to leap from his chair and fulfill your every whim.

Dawn broke, wet and bluish grey, and the lawnmower sulked in the shed.The lawn, far too wet for mowing, waved its tender fronds in triumphant glee.Another day spared from the all-controlling machine.

"Are you going to look at the mower, or do I have to take it to be serviced?"

Thanks to her beloved majesty Queen Elizabeth two celebrating her official birthday on this date, I knew that the lawnmower man would not be at his shop and the threat was a hollow one.

"You can't use it today, so there's no hurry."

In the eighteen and three quarters years that we have been married, there is one thing that I should have learned. I may win the odd battle, but I may never win the war.For the next couple of hours, I was mercilessly evilled. The vacuum cleaner clattered around my ankles, the kitchen bench became an anvil for a myriad of mallet-shaped bakeware. The usual frosty silence was supplanted by a cryogenic wave of nothingness.

Finally, when I could take no more and was on the verge of throwing one of her many polyresin ornaments through the nearest window,I conceded.
I pulled on my work boots and resigned myself to do battle with the offending herbivore.

I opened the shed, and it gleamed in the pale light of the bluish-grey sky.A quick check of essential fluids and a pull of the starter cord,and it rattled lifelessly from the momentum. I swear I almost caught it smirking.
I cast my eye up to the throttle control on the handrail.I'd left it closed.With a flick of my thumb, the lever slid past the full throttle mark to the point marked 'choke'.There was a satisfying click as the butterfly valve deep in the guts of the machine hit its stop.

I eyed the machine malevolently, grasped the cord handle with one hand and steadied the mower with my foot. I resigned myself to a series of sweat-inducing exercises with little chance of success, just to clear the dampness from the fuel line, or to confirm her diagnosis.

As I pulled the cord for the first time with the throttle open, it coughed, hummed smoothly into life, and then stuttered on the rich mixture.I eased the throttle back to a slow speed and it idled at a steady hum, sweet as the day that it first graced our lawn.Triumphant I shut it down, wheeled it back into the shed, and savoured the upcoming exchange.

Later in the afternoon,She bailed me up again. She needed the lawnmower looked at today. Her tone of voice was imperative, the grass was threatening to engulf Gotham City and only she could save it.

I asked her to demonstrate the problem, as I had looked at the mower and found it started fist time without any drama.

No, she replied, if you've managed to fix it, that will do.

But, says I, I'd like to see you start it. I can't find anything wrong with the machine, you must have just hit a spot of condensation in the fuel lines.

So it's my fault now is it? Came the testy reply. Besides, she said, it's a waste of time, it's far too wet today to mow the lawns...............

I muttered something dark about pestering me to fix things that would work without effort if handled properly.She muttered something that I didn't bother listening to.The coffee cup banged down on the bench conveyed the message that I was a bastard for making the mower work just to humiliate her.
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Another thing to learn is 'all men are bastards'. Comes about after a certain period of marriage. just the length of time before it happens apparently....:rolleyes:

Mate, looks like you need some Viagra! Youv'e got lotsa words, but me thinks you guys need a holiday!!! Get back in touch! Funk the lawn!

Oddjob1:cool:

I stumbled across that a while back.
Just had to share it - my wife was having a good chuckle as I read it out :-

Women have many faults, men have only two:everything they say, and everything they do!:q

How does the OP have 0 Posts? :?

There are a couple of Forums on here that do not register posts.

This one, the drivel Forum and open slather.

It was done to at least have an idea of who was posting relevant and helpful information.