Hubby's Bad Day

We have had a lot of rain, which makes grass grow very well, of course. So well that even some landscapers are complaining that they cannot get to all their clients to get their grass mowed before the next rain. Poor Guys! But this also means that homeowners who do their own lawn have to coordinate when to mow so that it is not raining and there is enough time-off to get everything done. (On that matter, why do we worry about it so much? Where we live there are forests and open fields and nobody cares about them. I guess it is leftover from where we lived before, where you could be fined by the borough for not cutting your lawn.) Still, when a bird lands on the front lawn and disappears, it must be time to mow. And not a little chickadee-size bird either - more like a robin-size bird! But finally all the planets aligned and a day-off occurred during a sunny, dry day. So the hubby puts on what we call his 'devo suit' - a white coverall - and starts by spraying around the house the bug killer stuff we hook up to our hose. Precautions are made, windows are shut and he wears the devo suit, baseball cap and respirator. I get this vision of someone coming to visit who is new to some of this stuff and seeing him - I think it could really be frightening! So that went well, bugs killed, windows reopened, respirator removed and he progresses to the riding lawn mower. Mower starts up fine and off he goes to mow the front lawn to save the birds from disappearing again, donning his now traditional straw hat to prevent sunburn on his head and neck.

During all of this I am in the house doing that never-ending domestic enterprise - laundry. My being in the house keeps our cats calm, as all this outdoor activity can be upsetting. Remaining calm, they sleep through most of this. This is good. Laundry in the washer, I get the idea to fix a door that is sticking, so I go out to the garage to get a tool I need. My husband swears that nothing goes wrong with whatever he is doing until I am within earshot. I walk outside and hear a very unnerving 'crunch' sound that comes from under the mower. He immediately turns the machine off - wise move - and walks around it to see if he ran over something. And I innocently walk up behind and and say "That didn't sound good." Of course I scared the heck out of him and he starts his usual tirade about nothing goes wrong until I am near, etc. I start to walk away and look at the mower as he backs it up and I notice that something is really amiss. Mower is running and is very noisy, so now I am doing hand puppets to get his attention.
"What, what!"
"Something is lose under the mower!"
"What?"
"Like I know!"

He gets off the mower and starts to try to roll the mower over to look underneath.
"That is not a good idea!"
"Yeah, I know, and why are you still here?"
"Honey, just lay on the ground and look underneath."
He lays on the fresh, mown grass.
"Honey?"
"What?"
"Remove the key."
The undercarriage that holds the mower blade housing in place had dropped its tie-rod, or at least one of the tie-rods. The air is now very blue and I am not talking about the sky and the better part of valor made me move quickly back inside.

Out here in the country/woods it is not unusual to hear banging and clanging and gunshots, echoing through the mountains, the noise could be miles away, so it becomes background noise during the day. I did not hear my husband trying to bang a pretty mean bend out of the tie-rod with the sledgehammer. I did not hear him cry out in pain as he hit the bejesus out of his thumb with the sledgehammer - it also helps that the washer was in its spin cycle and making its usual racket. However, when he tried to get in the door and there was torrent of very-bad-words because I had absently mindedly locked the door, I knew something was wrong. Oops!

Many ice packs later, and a fine lunch (oh, yes, I was cooking while all this banging was occurring too), he insists he will now fix the mower. Right! Of course, the tie-rod had a nut on the end that no amount of persuasion could get that sucker loose. I am of the belief that a new day may be a an opportunity to start anew, but he is determined to get the machine running and to get this lawn mowed! Realizing that he is licked with this nut, he drives into the nearest town to the auto repair shop where he knows the owner and, looking pitiful with a banged-up thumb and grass in his beard and hair, begs him to get the nut off the rod. That worked, and he drives back in triumph, puts the rod on the mower and finishes the front lawn. Back lawn - another day.

We are not at the end of the day, just half-way through. He removes his devo suit, showers and drops the shampoo bottle on his toe! He is now convinced that staying in bed the rest of the day is sounding like a fine option. But, we muddle on and because there is that little voice inside saying 'This is not your day!' everything he touches goes wrong. Little things, like dropping anything he picks up, putting clothes on backwards - this could really get to a person. So, we nap, and he rolls over onto the now very sore thumb. We decide to go out to dinner, but he insists that I drive (I would anyway) and I am happy to say, getting away from the house was a very good idea. Nice dinner, come home watch TV, go to bed, put his pajama pants on backwards...tomorrow is another day!