Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Satan's Drumstick & Other Lawn Mishaps

This weekend the skies threatened and spewed tiny droplets, never really turning into a real rain, just some dribble, like the clouds had BPH and were barely pissing. But it was enough to stop Jim from mowing. We didn't do anything in the yard, it was a Netflix, napping, baking and church weekend.

So all the lawn work fell to me, which I was something less than enthused about considering I have spent an enormous amount of time the last month working for the HOA to straighten out the mess it's morphed into. I was voted onto the Board of Directors last month and since the HOA hasn't been properly managed for at least eight years I am stuck wearing many hats and working at least two or three hours a day dealing with the fubar. Sure enough it's only Tuesday but I've already been working on several new projects and dealt with angry homeowners. Hey, it didn't happen overnight so the fix isn't overnight.

Yesterday I did a weeks worth of housework in a day so the rest of this week I could concentrate on my two interviews tomorrow, one for a web content provider account and another for a part time job at the local CPS. I'd have to reactivate my social worker license for the last one.

 But the other problem with the interviews is that I have lost four sizes since January. It was off to get a dressy outfit for the freelance thing and something a little less formal for the CPS interview. I got the most beautiful Vera Wang dress and sweater for the first interview and a suit in tanzanite blue for the other one.

I knew I was just putting off the inevitable by going shopping this morning, so eventually I had to woman up, go outside and mow. The problem was that the kids down the street who's grandma lets them do whatever they want twenty four hours a day had tossed a drum stick in my yard and I missed it while GI-ing the yard for sticks and other detritus before mowing. The drum stick has crudely carved pentagrams on it and the words "Satin Rules!" in magic marker.

The problem I had with Satan's drum stick besides the misspelling is that I ran over it with the mower, cursing as I listened to the distinctive shriek, clank, silence sequence the poor mower gave as it stopped, like demons fleeing before holy water. Mower wouldn't restart, I had to take the blade off and unwedge the stupid Satanic drum stick before I finished up. I was racing the thunder and lightening to finish up anyway. Tomorrow after my various interviews will be weed eating.

Sort of reminds me of the time some smart asses or bored teens spray painted "666" and "Satin Rules" on the side of the big firm I used to work for. Some of the folks working with me were afraid to go into the building at all, claiming it was 'cursed'. I had to point out that if someone can't even spell the name of the being they worship it's not likely they'd really be able to put a 'curse' on anything.

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