I am powerful. I am independent. I am going to get this backyard in tip top shape all by myself. I don’t need the help of no stinkin man.
Rake the lawn. Rake. Rake. Rake. huff huff
Bag the leaves. Bag.Bag.Bag! Get in there you stupid leaves!
Scoop the poop. Scoop. Scoop. Scoop. gag gag
Yank the weeds. Yank. Yank. Yank. Ouch my back. Ouch, my wee pathetic girly hands.
Into the Garage to get me a power tool to trim down those great big long ornamental grasses that frankly should have been hacked down last fall. Hmmm. This power tool looks like the one I need.
How do you turn this thing on. Press. Press. Spin. Poke. Pull? Nothing! Grr. Fine. He gets to cut the grasses when he gets home. I have done enough.
As I kick back with my tea mentally congratulating myself on a job well done I see Outdoor Hubby come out of the garage with this:
Huh? I was trying to start something totally different. Yep, I’m brilliant and was going to try and use a whipper snipper to cut down 6 foot tall ornamental grass. Which by the way requires an ELECTRICAL cord to be plugged into it before it works. Apparently it doesn’t run off some magic battery power!
Note to self…should have gone for the Hedge Trimmer.
Confessed my confusion to Outdoor Hubby…he thinks this is all kinds of funny.
Classic Blond Moment by the ModernMom.
I had no idea what it was called
I seem to remember that the weed-whacker we had growing up ran on gasoline. I might be wrong, though. So I wouldn’t have thought to plug anything in, and I definitely wouldn’t have reached for the hedge trimmer. Those things just look scary, and way too dangerous, for me to try to play with one.
Very cute post, had a giggle at you with the whipper snipper! At least you tried…I would not be so adventurous. Thanks for visiting me at French Essence, xv.