random thoughts – Day 1,250 – (Saturday) – weird encounter

Early on Saturday afternoon, the breezes picked up, the leaves were flashing their undersides, the clouds were gathered overhead, and it felt like it would rain again. It wasn’t raining yet, though, so I hustled outside to get the yard mowed. I had dressed in a “probably not leaving the house” ensemble of camo patterned cargo capris, a heather gray tee shirt, and the lavender colored, paint and grass stained Converse sneakers that have clearly seen fresher days. There was no need to change clothes for worry of sweating in anything “nice.”

The shaggy yard.

The mower was removed from the shed, along with the very long electrical cord required to propel it. The cord is a bit of a pain, but overall, the electric mower is far superior to the old gas mower. It’s easier to start and it doesn’t conk out partway through the job, so minding the cord is a minor inconvenience. 

It hadn’t rained since yesterday, but the shaggy, overgrown lawn was still wet closer to the ground and it clumped up under the mower. The growth required a couple passes in some spots and took more effort than usual, but I also hadn’t done it in three weeks. With sciatica flaring in the left leg, I got the front yard done.

As I gathered up the 50-foot cord before rolling the mower out the gate and around to the back of the house, the neighbor guy was standing on his porch. He waved, and I said "Hey," and he asked if the mower was electric. I said, yes, and he started asking another question. I heard “Do you” and thought he was going to ask if I liked the mower (I do), but he continued with “want to make five bucks?”

I’m sure I looked confused, because that is what I felt and I am not always good at stopping thoughts from broadcasting themselves on my face. He tilted his head towards his own sizeable back yard behind the tall privacy fence where his wife had been toiling for at least an hour, tending to the pool and the flower garden.

I kind of laughed, and said, “Nah, I don’t think so,” which was much more polite than the “Are you frigging kidding?” that was rolling around in my head. Then he said, completely serious, “How about seven?” Again, I said, “I don’t think so” and shook my head as I proceeded down the driveway, across the front of the yard, up the driveway on the other side, and to the back yard.

While untangling the power cord, plugging in the mower, and completing the second phase of yard work, I had time (about a half hour) to think about the ridiculous question. Five bucks to mow your lawn? Seriously? That’s how much my brother made mowing lawns in 1976. I don't know what the going rate is for lawn mowing nowadays, but five dollars is not really worth my time for hard physical labor. 

Even better, the guy offering the generous sum has four fully functional adults living in his home. There is his wife, who is constantly working in the yard. There is an adult daughter with a young son, and an adult son who rarely steps outside and might actually be a vampire. And there is the neighbor guy himself, who is usually only seen in the driveway briefly as he leaves or returns on his little scooter. I’m not sure he has even been in his own back yard.

So no, neighbor man who is probably ten years younger than I am and who has far more potential help in the household, I will not mow your yard, which is larger than mine and will take me between 30 and 45 minutes to do, for five dollars. Although … I could buy 15 bricks of ramen at Market Basket with a wad like that.

While mowing with the left leg sciatica and the right knee pain that activated once in the back yard,  and mulling the brief conversation, I wished I had delivered a snappy comeback, but those have become tragically scarce. Social interaction used to keep me sharp, but the absence of local friends and social activities, and the solitude of living alone mean that most days I possess, at best, barely functional, primitive conversational skills. The witty repartee once specialized in was lost over a decade ago, around the time I crossed back over the Mason Dixon line to return home. 

Once upon a time, I might have asked him what year he thought it was and if he was feeling feverish. He might have been commended for his comedic skills. There might have been a rapid fire round of snarky questions and hilarious comments. Instead, he got a confused “I don’t think so” and I got to think “What in the actual f*ck?” Very unsatisfying. I’ve got some work to do.