Some stuff happened while I was working this weekend, followed by a Day Off But With Extra Stress Cheese because of some other personal stressy stuff, followed by a day back to work with even more stressful crap on a cracker to get me to peak disquietude. I do not let apprehension get to me all that much in the grand scheme, but all my anxiety and/or tension buttons have been pushed in the past few days all on top of each other and I DO NOT LIKE IT SAM I AM. I do not like it in a box, I do not like it with a fox, I do not like it with a ball, I do not like this shit at all.
So what did I do with this energy when I got home? I decided to mow my lawn. Now that I actually have a lawn, I have discovered that apparently I am a suburban dad of the 1950s because I am soothed by buzzcutting my grass. I don’t know what it is: maybe it’s the droning sound, maybe it’s the methodical back and forthness, maybe it’s the sense of getting something done. I am a grass chopping fool. In fact, after I mowed the yard today, I noticed that the clippings had stained the pair of Tom’s I was wearing, and I thought to myself: I really need to get myself a yard-mowing outfit.
Did you hear that? A YARD MOWING OUTFIT. What is happening to me, people? Even as I type this and scoff at my inner weirdo, there is still a part of me that thinks this is a great idea.
I think the stress of my week has wrung out my brain.