This past weekend I moved into a house. I'm renting, and have the (ahem) privilege of now being in charge of nearly an acre of yard. Some unknown, gracious neighbor has cut the grass twice now, between the time when the owner moved out and I moved in. However, said awesome neighbor did not do any trim work, so that was looking pretty sketchy.
Last weekend my wonderful, generous, amazing father and step mom came to help me with a day and a half of cleaning and painting in the new place. Man, did we have fun! Well, ok, "fun" might be a bit of a stretch, but it was good bonding time. And we were super-productive. They're awesome like that. That was Thursday evening and all day Friday.
The next day (Saturday morning) I went back to trim by hand. I mean, it looked really bad. I took my gardening gloves, my scissors, and one of my two gardening tools- a small pair of clippers.
If you've ever tried to trim an acre of yard with scissors, you're probably snickering right now. Fair enough. Two hours, a giant blister on my right middle finger, and a wet, nasty mess later, the front part of the yard looked a bit less hillbilly. And I was determined to find a better solution.
As it turns out, my sister and brother-in-law had recently left a used weed wacker behind when they moved to Seattle, and my brother, Josh, had been using it. After seeing my pitifulness, he gave it to me as a house warming gift. :)
So this morning, day 3 in my new house and Memorial Day, I decided to gather my courage and give it a try.
Allow me to interject here about the emotional strain that has come along with yard work for me. There are undoubtedly HUNDREDS of things at which I am totally and completely inept. Milking a cow? No idea. Car maintenance (beyond oil changes, tire changes, and giving someone a jump)? Clueless. I'm also pretty bad at making fried chicken, which is disappointing to me. But generally, the things I suck at are things I can avoid without much trouble.
Then I started renting a house with a giant yard.
Yes, I grew up on a farm with a giant yard, but I wasn't the one who kept it looking nice. I've mowed once or twice, but generally that wasn't one of my chores. I'd never even HELD a weed wacker before last week.
Anywho, this morning seemed the perfect time to put on my Big Girl Panties and git er done. No time like the present to try out something intimidating and potentially beyond your abilities.
I tried to bolster my courage by reminding myself that 13 year old boys regularly do yard work. Surely I can keep up with a 13 year old boy, right?
I put on my work clothes and my oldest sneakers. I got out my shades (thank you, cousin Muir, for this stellar suggestion). I grabbed the WW and headed to the back yard. I figured it'd be easier on my ego to figure it out where no one could see me.
When he was here helping me move, Josh had gone over (very quickly) how to start the machine. There were a lot of steps and I'm not an auditory learner. Seeing helps me, not hearing. I nodded a lot and tried to appear competent.
Now as I looked at the WW, I was greatly relieved to see that the 10 steps are on a little sticker on the side of the engine. (TEN STEPS!?!?! just to START the thing!) Then I noticed that there was no gas in it.
In hindsight, I realized that when Josh had said, "You're welcome for the gas I gave you" he was being sarcastic. The tank was completely empty.
I left the WW in the grass, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed to the car. 20 minutes and $20 later, I was back with a shiny new gas can and gas, which, given the price, SHOULD by all rights self-fill with gasoline. After a bit more experience feeling dumb while trying to use the fancy new spout thingy that's supposed to keep the gas from evaporating, I got the tank filled and got it started.
You know. Ten steps.
Now her comes the part of a WW that saved my life. It has a strap. The strap goes around one shoulder and your neck and carries most of the weight of the machine. SO SMART! Kudos to whomever figured out that little stroke of genius.
Did you know that the little plastic strings that do the cutting on a WW disappear as you work? Yep. They just disintegrate, right before your eyes. Did you also know that to pull out more plastic string, you just tap the head on the ground while holding down on the throttle? Well, I didn't know that until today. Thanks, Dad. It's pretty nifty, that.
So around the yard I went, wacking merrily away at my unruly weeds. After gaining a little courage, I headed to the front yard. Here are some other discoveries I made this morning:
-If you try to move too fast, you can actually stop the spinning by getting caught in the overgrown weeds. That's probably not manufacturer-recommended.
-Height is important in this job. Too high, you just blow the weeds around. Too low, and you end up skinning a patch of grass down to dirt. Oops.
-With a bit of encouragement, a WW will happily strip off tree bark and house paint. Also not recommended.
-WW are apparently designed with people with strong arms in mind. If like me, your upper arm strength leaves a bit to be desired, do not plan to do anything requiring good small motor skills immediately after WWing. Watercolor painting is probably out for a couple hours.
-When you're planning your day, be sure to calculate time to shower after your WWing is done. And you should cover your hair. Do you know how much fun it is to get grass out of your hair? Each. Blade. Individually.
And so. I wacked until I ran out of plastic string. My brother assures me that doesn't run out too much. I guess I was just lucky to get to experience it in my first go.
Now, an hour and a half after the string ran out, I'm sitting contentedly on my couch in my new living room- clean, and with an arm recovered enough to type again.
That wasn't so bad. My yard looks MUCHO much nicer than it did. And now if someone asks if I know how to use a WW I can say yes with confidence.
If they ask if I WANT to use a WW, though, my answer might be a little different.
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