I wish my lawn would stay at its current height. It should just freeze and stay as is. It would be nature’s version of Mrs. Havisham.

You may be wondering why I want to overturn the rules of nature.

First off, let me say I do appreciate nature. I love to hike. I enjoy seeing the trees in bloom in the Spring and the colorful leaves of the Fall.

But I hate mowing the lawn.

Don’t think I’m lazy.

I’m really, really not. It’s just I hate mowing the lawn.

By the way, there are plenty of chores I don’t mind doing. I’ve told you multiple times of my odd affinity for food shopping.  I don’t mind making the bed. Washing the dishes is no big deal. Vacuuming lets me escape into my own thoughts.

Clearly, I’m domesticated.

Yet ever since I was a teen, I have not liked mowing the lawn. I blame the lawnmower. I know the saying a poor craftsman blames the tool. However, before you leave me with that title, listen to the facts.

Back then, the lawnmower and I were engaged in a perpetual battle.  I had to yank the cord multiple times before the lawnmower would turn on. Then while mowing, the lawnmower would go off. For no apparent reason!

Every time the lawnmower went off, I had to walk it to the pavement and go through the process of starting it once again.  Why did I walk it to the pavement? Well, the lawnmower would not start on the lawn. Can that be any more ironic?

I think the lawnmowers know how much I hated using them. And therefore, every lawnmower my family had over the years gave me this issue.

My permanently calloused hands remind me of these former battles.

Now that you know my history, you must be able to understand why I hate mowing the lawn.

But, wait there’s more (no, I don’t mean ginsu knives).

At the risk of sounding like a whiny kid with all this complaining, and I know there is nothing worse than sounding like a whiny kid except if you are a whining adult, I’ll go on.

Mowing the lawn is boring. I find it so boring that I rush through in order to finish as fast as possible.

In addition to that, our lawn has brown spots where lawn should be. When we first moved in, I tried planting seed. When it didn’t work the first year, I tried again the second year. When it didn’t work the second year, I grumbled and tried to forget about it.

So, I spend an hour of my time mowing the lawn, and in the end, it still doesn’t look particularly good. It’s like putting a suit on a pig. Nice suit but still a pig.

Not inspiring.

Here’s my wish: the lawn would just stay short. The height of the lawn could stay petrified like astroturf.

You know how when you see a young person who you haven’t seen in a while you’re always surprised at how much they’ve grown?  It’s as if you expect to see their height stay frozen in time.

My lawn could take the place of those young children. People could walk by my house and think, “Wow this lawn hasn’t changed a bit.” Wouldn’t that be comforting?

My brown patched lawn would provide stability. That is something I could be proud of.

P.S. What chores would you like to avoid?