I spent Thursday evening on the lawn tractor. I actually don’t mind it because it’s like an escape. I sing loudly because no one can hear me. Or I think about things…life. Sometimes I vent my anger because, again, no one can hear me. It’s therapeutic really. Ohhh, if my lawn tractor could talk.
I like going up and down the rows, making neat and tidy patterns. The best patterns are those that push the grass out to the sides. Now that I think about it, sometimes that’s the therapy. Thinking about nothing except the methodical patterns made by the lawn mower.