|End of my street, back in the day(Google Maps, Street view)|
For starters, a week ago I (shudder) did not mow my lawn. While I am not a pariah in my neighborhood (yet) there have been rumblings. I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I didn't cut the grass. Was it inclement weather or just sloth on my part? Either would fit but that's neither here nor there. Bottom line, the grass was in dire need of cutting.
So, of course, Saturday it rained. Sunday I had an engagement out of town (in Mystic, CT) which precluded me from engaging in landscaping activities on Sunday. I was told by a colleague that while the weather in Mystic may have been tolerable (as in "did not rain"), the weather in Little Rhody was not good, drizzly and wet.
So even had I been home, the odds of being able to cut the grass were low.
Which left me having to do the dreaded "cut the grass after work" thing.
So Monday, I departed my place of employment fully prepared to break out the mower and cut the grass.
And (of course) on the way home it started to spit rain.
Fortunately, it didn't amount to anything. I was indeed able to break out the mower and cut the grass down to a reasonable height. The mutterings in the neighborhood have quieted (somewhat, I may still have to call out the Cossacks) and things are once again back to "normal" at Chez Sarge.
Nevertheless, instead of preparing a post last night to entertain all of you today, I was behind the mower, bagging grass, sweating and swearing.
Oh yeah, I also "had" to finish watching Generation War. So yes, I do feel a little guilty.
There is much that perturbs me now in the goings-on outside of my little world. I often ask myself if there is some natural selection process at work which has led to so many assholes being in charge of things. Both here and abroad. I may post on this, I may not.
Politics upsets my stomach. But every now and then I will overcome my aversion to that topic and provide a rant. I rant a lot in the car. Sometimes it's the other drivers, sometimes it's something I hear on the radio.
I should mount a dash cam in Big Girl. Nah, the language alone would give it an "R" rating, and I prefer to keep things here on the blog somewhat family friendly.
Though I often ponder what my grandchildrens' reactions would be to my use of the phrase "fire truck." Without the "ire tr" of course.
Das Leben geht weiter.