Playing the blame game

Global warming is kicking our ass today. It is in the thirties yet again this morning, at least it is sunny. Oh well. My coffee is hot and I don't plan to hang around outdoors anyway. I imagine I will survive. To date May has been decidedly March-like.

I doubt you stopped by for a weather report. That, you can get from any number of channels on the television or radio. I am not sure why you stop by. I could tell you how I managed to miss mowing large sections of my yard yesterday afternoon. Since in our new Obama world nothing is ever the fault of an individual, I will blame my idiocy on a tree. I will fault the maple in my front yard to be precise.

I like to mow a different direction each time. You know, across one week and up and down the next. Yesterday I thought I would get fancy and go diagonal. To get the proper angle I cut a swath down the middle, corner to corner just above the tree.  I did the top half and the attached side yard. Then I did the part on the other side of the driveway. I then put the mower away in the back shed. As I was trimming I realized I forgot to mow the bottom half of the front yard. #%^*^%#!  I dragged the mower back around front and started on the lower diagonal. The tree has a small flower bed around it so you have to go around it.

I mowed up to the tree for a few stripes, then around the blocks that guard the flower bed. Then I went around to the other side and mowed the three or four strips on the other side of he tree. I shut  the mower off and pushed it around to the shed at he back of he property. As I started trimming around the tree I realized I still had not mowed the bottom quarter of he front yard. I did the top half and quit. I did the quarter around the tree, but still not the lower quarter of he square yard. Son of a....

I dragged the mower back around and mowed the last few strips, mumbling curses all the while. I once again pushed me mower to the back of he lot, put it once again back in the shed and resumed trimming. My trimmer ran out of string. 

I looked longingly at the garage fridge. I knew beer lived in there. Instead, I wound new string and finished the yard. I had no one to blame for my high level of dumbassery except the maple tree. I sure as heck ain't taking the blame.

I'm not going to mow diagonal any more either.