"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
My favorite all-time true saying. Everyday, this saying proves itself, over and over again.
The 'good intention' this morning was mowing the grass. Not just because it needed to be mowed. Not just because it would help my over-worked husband out. And not just because it would make our yard look splendid, something I really enjoy. No. The other reason was because I have sat around way to much and my weight is reflecting it. Gotta get moving, Sharon. Up and at 'em!
Since our rider was mysteriously broken while we were at church one day, I was forced to use the push mower. Well, that's not all bad since I am doing this for the exercise, right? And you have to love a John Deere. It cranked on the second pull. Those machines that make me pull and yank and spit and fuss usually end up at the bottom of the hill.
So away I go, knocking down the foot high grass in our dog lot first. What a beautiful morning to be doing something so good for myself! (Insert a pat on the back here). Mowing, mowing, mowing...and...it died. What? Not my John Deere too!
I tried re cranking. Maybe the wet grass had clogged it up? But no. I would soon discover that the mower was empty. No gas. Now, the paving for the road to Hell begins.
Well, no problem. I am not giving up that easily. I need this exercise! And there is the gas can Frank uses. I pick it up, knocking off the spider web, only to find--you guessed it--it's empty too. *Long sigh* A few imps pass by me with their paving equipment.
It's getting hotter. By the time I go and get gas (provided I can scrape enough change from the penny jar since I spent all of my allowance yesterday) it will be blazing. Perhaps I can just weed-eat the highest parts down and finish mowing this afternoon when Frank gets home with money.
The Weedeater is inhabited by a nasty spider too. What's up with these arachnids and my lawn equipment? After beating him off and turning the thingy on the back since the primer button is broken, I pulled. And pulled. And yanked. I threatened. One of the head imps whispered in my ear as he went by, steadily paving... I sweated and pulled and said ugly words.
When Frank comes home this evening, he will find the Weedeater waiting at the bottom of the hill alongside the John Deere. The yard, half-mowed, will greet him. When he asks "What have you done today?" I will shake my head sadly. The only thing I will have accomplished today is a really good paving job on the road to Hell.