That Guy

I always told myself I wouldn’t become “that guy.” I’m not talking about the guy that drinks six beers each night to help him fall asleep. I’m not talking about the guy that saves his toenail goo. I’m talking about the guy that rakes his yard after mowing, even though there aren’t any leaves to pick up.

Yeah. That guy.

It all started innocently enough. I am usually only able to mow on the weekends due to my daily commute and taking care of Bo. My last opportunity to mow was two weekends ago. It has been raining a LOT here the past two weeks and my yard began resembling a prairie. I thought, “No worries, Mom and Dad got me the bagger attachment for my mower a few months ago. I’ll use this opportunity (notice how I deluded myself into seeing this as an opportunity?) to assemble the bagger attachment and suck up the grass.

If you are anything like me, you probably get similar innocent thoughts. This time mine was, “I’ll assemble the bagger attachment.” Simple, right? 5 minutes. No problem!

Hah.

Thirty minutes and multiple trips between the shed and garage reveal I am NOT going to be able to jerry-rig my way out of two missing bagger parts. So much for using that to clean up the grass.

So I mowed. And mowed. And mowed. It took me twice as long as usual. Pseudo-prairie grass is tough stuff.

I reviewed my work once finished. The prairie grass lay in thick rows on my beautiful lawn. My mind flashed forward to a few days from now when that lush green prairie grass turns an ugly shade of brown. Simply unacceptable.

So yeah, this weekend I became “that guy.”

I feel dirty.

Mike