Yo, Travelin’ Man! Come Mow the Lawn!

Here is something I have learned this week whilst my Huzzah has been out of town: (That's supposed to read "Huz," which is short for "Huzband," which is short for "Husband," which is short for "Slave of Undying Empathy and Buying of Chocolate. Plus Mowing the Lawn." But my fingers just kept going and it became "Huzzah." Which must be Freudian. It must represent my innermost reaction whenever I see the Huz coming toward me with a vat of chocolate in his outstretched empathetic arms. "Huzzah, baby !")

This is the thing I learned. Steady. It's a mind-bender: The Lawn, Left to It's Own Devices, Will Not Mow Itself.

I KNOW, RIGHT?

And also, what is up with that?

I do all kinds of things without  being asked. I think the lawn can mow itself. Rather petty of it not to, really. If not that, then at least my Huzbandiero can hire someone to come mow it in the middle of the night while Huz is gone and make me think the thing is magically mowing itself. That would make me feel special. And less crazy. Although he'd have to put a silencer on the mower to get away with it.

Which brings me to this: My Huzzer-wuzzer-woo has been gone waaaay to long, waaaaay too many times of late, and it is evident by the tragic state of my brain. I mean, who thinks of things like this? Self-mowing lawns? Silencers for middle-of-the-night lawn mowing? Jeesh. That's right up there with Purchasing-Dresses-and-Cute-Little-Shoes-And-Having-Them-Delivered-Knowing-Wife-Will-Be-Lonely-While-Huz-Is-Gone. I mean, I do NOT know who would think of something like that. Psh. Not me, baby. I draw the line at self-mowing lawns. 

I only hope the Huzzinator does not get internet support where he is right now because I'd hate for him to read this and feel guilty and pressured to do something ridiculously guilt-ridden like buy me clothes and tickets to New Zealand and put me up in a 5-star hotel or something. Or give me a day at the spa for my birthday, which is coming up and for which he'll actually be in town. Something like that. I'd hate for him to feel guilty and do one of those things. With a box of fine chocolates.

Hate.

Come home soon, love! There's some grass waiting for you!