I asked my landlord for a weed wacker / and he gave me a slingblade
No, that’s not the first line of a terrible, Billy-Bob-Thornton-inspired blues song. Read on.
For those of you who know me even slightly, you know there is one underlying philosophy that informs every aspect of my life. It is the beacon of wisdom that lights my way forward, and it is this:
I hate manual labor, especially if it occurs outside.
So when I asked my landlord to borrow a weed wacker so I could clean up our side of the block, I fully expected to be pulling a crank line and buzzing my way down the street. Instead, I had a lovely opportunity to study the life of a 19th-century farmer as I hacked and chopped my way down the street.
Before we go to the video, allow me to mention two other facts:
- It was 78 degrees Farenheit
- The humidity was 96%
Let’s go to the tape:
Wow, I’m so thankful that you were able to survive that horrendous chore. 78 degrees you say? I truly don’t know how you survived it. You’re a beacon of hope and inspiration to all of us lazy bums.
Otto — I know for a fact no one hates summer heat more than you. And it really wasn’t the 78 degrees as much as the 96% humidity. Yuck.
Dan — It’s a complex world! And you’re on for that bike ride.
Jason Crane, the Man on a Bike, prefers to use a gas weedwacker? Oh the contradictions. The next time we go to Saratoga, you drive, I’ll ride on the back of your bike.
I’m speechless! (THAT doesn’t happen often). Just the fact that you were holding ANY kind of tool in your hand is enough to send me into cardiac arrest. That’s the plan, isn’t it? You just want to get your hands on the insurance!