Ah, Colorado! It snowed a couple of days ago, today I mowed the lawn. I had to empty the grass catcher eight times on the main part of the front lawn where it’s usually just twice — the first mowing of the season is always like that because I’m not one to rake Fall leaves like everyone else. I want the nutrients they contain to leech in the melting snow to do the grass some good. That’s my excuse and I’m stickin’ to it. I also did the horrible deed of spraying Miracle Gro on the lawn to make it green up nice. I would prefer good old fashioned cow shit, but I don’t really feel like loading up the truck with the free manure from the fairgrounds, then pulverizing and screening it. It’s a shitty job.
While I was finishing up the chemical attack, a couple in a Dodge Durango pulled up, the man got out, and asked, “Is this apartments or a house?”. No one’s ever asked that before, at least not of me. It’s just not that big a house; four bedrooms, three upstairs and one (my office) downstairs, living room up, family room down. Not tiny, but not a Yuppie Habitrail (AKA “McMansion”) either. The guy said he was looking for the blue apartments on our street — there ain’t any. The nearest blue apartment building is a block and a half southwest. I told him about them, but apparently they weren’t what they were looking for as I saw them again a few minutes later coming from that direction. I hope they’ve found the place they were looking for; there are no vacancies at the hotels and motels in town this weekend. There’s something going on involving a cartoon character, I think I heard. Why anyone would come to Dinkytown for such a thing, I don’t know.
The mowing showed me a little bit about what it’s like getting older, and I didn’t like it all that much. Okay, so I was mostly sedentary all winter… It’s never been a problem before, dammit. It’s not supposed to ever be a problem. Just lie around for months doing nothing, then hit the ground running and never know the difference, right? Mowing the lawn isn’t supposed to be painful, not even on the side of a mountain where it’s all slope and no level. I’m left thinking that if I die tonight I avoid the unpleasantness of decay and decrepitude, and never mind that I’ve been dealing with some of both since I was a ripe old 35.
Once upon a time I figured it was worth it, tramping around above timberline (meaning: on solid fucking rock) with a heavy pack on my back, beating hell out of hips, knees, and ankles… Just think how precious those memories will be, I thought, never considering that I wouldn’t think of them so often anyway. I’m still too busy and yet too young to spend my time sitting around reminiscing about a lost and intentionally misspent youth.
I never thought that I might blow my back out picking up the front end of a riding mower with a whiny old man perched on the seat of it, either. That’s my major complaint, really, that persistent pain that makes getting out of bed unpleasant as hell every morning, and which is terribly distracting for several days after I do something silly like work on my truck, or carry heavy things, or run the chainsaw for more than a few minutes… Intelligent design my heathen ass! Ain’t nothing deserving of the title intelligent thought this fragile shit up.
So it goes. Time for a blast of whiskey and a hot shower to mitigate the pain I’ll experience in the morning. Be well but not too good, friends and neighbors!