I call my lawn tractor Sitwell.
That’s because he sits around pretty well as opposed to riding around and, uh, mowing. He is an expensive piece of equipment.
Sitwell lives to sit around. In fact, just recently, he was one of the factors in the big lawn mowing fiasco that could only be accomplished by two men and a Sitwell mower. He sat out. They mowed with the John Deere push mower. And not well, I should add.
As it turned out, the problem with Sitwell that time was his mower blade was bent, for some unfathomable reason, after a short drive with my 17-year-old son.
But after paying $398 to get the mower repaired and tuned up, I was dismayed, to say the least, when Sitwell decided to do another sitdown. After driving a mere
I really can’t afford a Sitwell mower.
And because I was faced with another four hours of push mowing and raking because the push mower doesn’t have a mulching attachment, I was a wee bit put out. Okay, I am facing another business trip and tight deadlines, so I was even more than a “wee bit put out” when I called the mower man to come and cart Sitwell off to the hospital again.
Poor mower man. I reckon that this fellow doesn’t often encounter a woman as tall as I am in full dudgeon about her mower. After I gave myself the old “Robin, get a life” chat, I explained the reason for my pique—Sitwell is a slacker and I am tired of push mowing the lawn. This simply isn’t humorous anymore.
See, as you can see, Sitwell has a history of getting into trouble. He has no stamina at all. I need a mower with a bit more staying power—some umph!
Well, it also occurs to me that it’s come to this. I am now writing about my riding lawn mower as if it were interesting.
Signing off now to go get a life.