Well, I got out there and pushed my mower on the little lawn. I didn’t like it, but I did it. Usually, I think, “Oh dear, I must mow the lawn.” Then I do. This week has been different – I thought I would prefer to pound my head with a hammer than mow that dratted yard. Finally this evening I did it because it was like Poe’s heart driving me crazy.

Well, it’s done and I don’t feel a whole lot of relief. I will have to do it again. Then rake those stinking leaves. I think I am chored-out.

Oh, I forgot to tell you this part: I came in after mowing and the first words out of Someone’s mouth were, “Grandma, got any jobs for me?”

Response:

NOW you want a job? Where WERE you? Didn’t you hear the motor?

She thought it was the neighbor.

I may have her lined up to help straighten out the garage so the door men can work on fixing the opening apparatus. We have to paint the door, as well – scrape, prime and paint . . . both sides. I sent her out just a while ago to finish cleaning the windows in it. She asked how she would know which ones I had already done; well, since we grilled in the garage, it was obvious. I guessed the number I had left undone was four. She just came in and said one word: SEVEN. And she repeated it. Seven, GRANDMA.