Maybe I like crab grass better than regular grass. I just wish I’d thought of this sooner, I could have used the change in perspective, the shift in attitude like a month ago, more toward the beginning of spring, not now, middle of summer, I’ve already waged this ridiculous lawn war against, who? What? And mostly unsuccessful by the way.
It was really nothing that I cared about at all, until one day one of my neighbors left this old push lawnmower on my lawn. No, I still don’t know which neighbor, by the way, I think it’s such a coward’s move. Fine, I haven’t been keeping my side of the street clean, that’s great, you want the block to be a little bit more presentable? I understand that. But maybe, I don’t know, knock on my door? Say something face to face?
Talk about passive aggressive. I’m a reasonable guy. I like to believe that I could have been approached like any other human being, “Hey Rob, we’ve been a little concerned lately about your grass,” which, who really cares about grass anyway? You’re telling me that you’ve got nothing better to do than to sit around and worry about me letting my grass get a little high?
And so what if it’s a little high, maybe I like my grass a little taller. But whatever, I’m reasonable, to a point. It’s hard to be reasonable to an inanimate object, some stupid piece of shit old-fashioned lawnmower. Where the hell did you find something like this anyway? What, was this thing inherited? Like did the owners of the property use it to keep their lawn pretty in case General Washington happened to be passing through town?
I left it there for a while, like don’t tell me how to keep my lawn, like this is America. But one day, I don’t know, I guess I got bored, I guess I just wanted to show the neighbors, OK, I get it, yeah, the lawn could use a little upkeep. And it’s not like I had my own lawnmower anyway. I just, I don’t remember this being an issue last year. The grass wasn’t that tall. Why was it so much bushier this year?
So I got out there and started pushing this thing around, and it was terrible. I’m pretty sure that the blades were all dull, I mean, I did cut myself when I went to feel them, but I’ve cut my hand with a butter knife before, I’m telling you, these things were dull. And I tried, I ran this thing up and down the front lawn, over and over again, the whole time looking at the houses next to me, across the street from me, just focusing on those blinds, one of them would move maybe, whoever planted this piece of garbage on my property, maybe they were watching, like, finally, he’s finally using it.
But I think that I was paying so much attention to the windows – nothing, by the way – that I didn’t notice the dull blades digging out these thick chunk of dirt. I was just hacking away at the soil, making a huge mess. And yeah, I’ve admitted it, it was kind of overgrown before, but now it was definitely worse. Like I wish I had taken a before photo. Or even an after photo. I never take photos. Why do I have this camera on my phone if I’m not going to take photos?
But just chunks of grass and dirt here and there, like worms coming up, it was terrible. And of course I got pissed. I was actually already pissed, like I already said, just from having this thing on my lawn. What the fuck? You want me to start getting in your face with your housework? Huh? I’ve got a bunch of half-empty cans of paint somewhere in the basement, you want me to leave them on your porch? Maybe I’ll paint out a big message, “Paint me!” right on the front of your house, so if you want it gone you’ll have to paint the rest.
No, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’m not pissed off. A little pissed off. But I’m fine. Because now the lawn looked worse, like much worse, and if my shaggy grass was too much of an eyesore for Mr. or Mrs. busybody neighbor, than this, the way it was after, that’s probably like cause enough for aneurysm, a whole shit-fit, I can just picture them looking out the window, I can picture them, but I can’t see them, but I know they’re there, they’re like, “Really? He’s really just going to keep his lawn like that?”
And all of the grass that I turned up got brown within like a week. I stopped thinking much of it. The lawnmower disappeared off of the front lawn one day, nice try buddy, put that thing back in the shed and so help me God don’t let me see you wheeling it out one day. But that’s when the crab grass started. I guess with a whole new playing field, all of those freshly unearthed chunks of dirt, the crab grass had ample opportunity to sprout, to really get in there and recolonize.
I don’t know, I bought some of this weed spray at Home Depot, but it didn’t do anything. In fact, I think it just killed the remaining good grass, because that’s when the crab grass really took off, just these mini bushes of thick blades. Again, I kind of liked it, but the town, these buttinskis with their village ordinances and state wildlife guidelines, they’re putting notices on my front door when I’m not home. Just show your faces, all right? Telling me I’ve got to take care of the crab grass, that I might attract ticks. What if I like ticks, huh? How come nobody’s asking me if I don’t like ticks, or crab grass? Huh? Hey Rob, I hope you don’t mind that our lawns aren’t covered in ticks and crabgrass like yours is. Is that cool? Do you mind? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of what you want, how you like things around here, on what you like on your lawns. And I’m the crazy one here?