It's that time of year again...when one man goes to mow.
"I'm just going to cut the grass, sweetheart. I might be gone some time."
Froggy, for it is she, evil of smirk and twinkling of eye, "Shall I fetch you the scissors then, daddy?"
2000 square yards of weed filled meadow. At least it gives me time to think. Unfortunately, all I can think of is how much I hate mowing the grass.