Concrete Poured, Lawn Gets Mowed


Friday was a busy day for me.

Father Steve ordered several yards of concrete to make a patio that would allow mother Karen to go in and out of the house as she pleases.

Troy, Travis and I helped pour the concrete and get it nice and smooth.

The mix was full of rocks, which will make it stronger, but it also made it more difficult to finish and edge.

Even though halfway through dad was certain it wasn’t going to turn out very good, the end result is a great patio for mom to utilize and enjoy the outdoors even if no one else is home.

The patio goes right up the threshold of the back door, so she can hop into her wheelchair and roll right out without any assistance, unlike before when going in or out required on of us guys to ease her up and down the three-inch difference by tipping her chair backwards and lifting her the over the hump.

Late Friday mom tried it out and gave it her seal of approval.

Of course, I didn’t get to witness that. I had other work to tend to.

For you see, following the concrete work, I took a nap. When I woke up, I saw I had a missed call and a voice mail on my cell phone.

It was my land lord requesting I deal with the jungle that was my yard.

I don’t have a mower at my house, so I have to wait until dad or Troy can bring one over for me to use.

It had rained so frequently lately that I hadn’t been able to get a mower into town, and the lawn had gotten completely out of control.

The voice mail was just the motivation I needed, though.

I got up off of mom and dad’s couch and told dad I had to get it mowed today for I fear eviction.

Granted, the word eviction never came out of my land lord’s mouth, but it was the right type of embellishment to help get things going.

Dad brought the mower to town and I got the lawn cut down to a more respectable length.

Afterward, I walked up to The Ledger office and saw my land lord. She asked if I got her message.

I smiled and said, “No. I must have been mowing.”

She didn’t believe that for one second, but I had to try.

I then checked messages at the office and had one from a fellow offering his services to mow my lawn.

Sorry for not calling you back. Had I gotten the message in time, I probably would have enlisted your help.

I guess from now on I need to channel my inner Hank Hill, of Fox’s animated sitcom “King of the Hill” and learn to love my lawn.

If I can manage to do that, I should have the prettiest lawn in town in no time.

But before I can do that, though, I probably need to get my own mower.

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