Please feel free to insert, the obscenity of your choice, whenever you see an asterisk.
I went outside to mow the * lawn. I pulled the stack of one gazillion * resin chairs out of the * shed, because, of course, the * lawn mower is in the BACK of said shed. I wheeled the mower out and grabbed for the metal whatchamacallit that you need to hold to start the thing up. The * whatchamacallit wasn't there. I also noticed a frayed wire was dangling just above the ground.
WTF?
Yes, that's exactly what I texted Mr. Schmitty. Apparently, the * whatchamacallit is a safety latch. He said that it was broken. REALLY?! Thanks dear, I had no * idea.
He told me I needed to pry two metal pieces apart and rig something in it so the mower would start. He didn't tell me that the * little metal pieces are attached to a * spring that is next to impossible to pry apart.
My hand slipped. I gashed the top of my * right hand. *****!!! It immediately swelled but looked worse than it was. I'd take care of that later.
I tried again.
I did it. I jammed another piece of metal in between the pieces. It held. I pulled the rip cord, and I started the mower. Yippee!
I went to the front yard. I pushed a nice even line through the tall grass.
The * motor died. *****!!!!!!
I went to pull the * rip cord again. There was this strange piece of metal, like a small clamp, at the bottom of the cord.
"That doesn't * belong there!" I said to myself, though probably out loud at this point.
The * clamp should have been at the top of the * cord, near the * handle. It was to prevent the cord from going into the lawn mower.
I yanked on it to pull it back to the top. It wouldn't * budge. I used pliers. NOTHING. The cord and handle lay on the ground. I tried the * pliers one more time. I pinched my pointer finger. I dropped the * pliers and stifled a scream. A huge blood blister appeared.
The sun suddenly disappeared behind the clouds. I swore I heard a rumble.
THAT'S * IT!!! All I could imagine was standing there, in ten feet tall grass, bleeding and bruised, with a dead mower, looking like a drowned rat. Not this lady.
If it weren't for the fact that I am the only adult around for my children today, I'd be typing this drunk as a * skunk!
