A Hot Guy Cutting the Grass

If that title pulled in a few more female readers, then it did exactly what it was supposed to do.

Sorry, ladies, this is what we call the old bait-n-switch. It wasn't a hot guy in the sense that I know you are all thinking, it was just me and I was really hot. Temperature-wise. Not the good way.

It was in the low 80's, and I was heating up quickly. (Search 'anhidrosis' in the field in the upper left to get entries explaining anhidrosis. The earliest is probably best) I was determined to get the grass done today, figuring that the house was right there and I could go in to cool down whenever I liked.

I am, however, as I noted in a previous post, stubborn. Or stupid. It was never resolved which.

I had made certain the gas tank on the mower was filled to capacity. I was working away industriously, and had taken off my shirt in an effort to keep it clean. This would also let the cool breezes waft across my skin and ferry away the heat I was building up. I was wearing the hat that Handsome picked out for me last year that happens to be the bomb at keeping my head cool. Straw, vented all the way around, it is an awesome hat to keep cool.

I decided that I was going to just get the grass done.

I cut my way through the front, and around the side, and was working on the back when the heat really started to hit me. Remember that gently wafting breeze I was looking for? It had gone fishing. The hat was helping, helping a lot, but it was just too hot. But I'm stubborn, and I kept on working. I was panting, and I could feel myself turning red, it was happening so fast. I was looking at what I had left to do and convincing myself in my head that I could just get it done... when the mower ran out of gas. It was while I was filling the tank that I saw the steam.

Steam was coming from the tank as I poured in fresh gas. Now, I have heard that there are parts in there that are usually not exposed to air, the fuel normally covering them and keeping them cool. Run the machine dry and expose those parts to air, and they can get hotter than usual. Throw some fresh gasoline in there over those parts that are hotter than usual, without letting those parts cool down a bit, and boom!

I had heard that rumor, but I have never seen it happen. I had also never seen steam coming from the tank as I refilled the machine.

I looked up at the church that, as I have mentioned before, can be seen quite clearly from F-'s house. I quite clearly heard God talk to me for a second. To me, God sounds like George Carlin. It's possible, I suppose, that George, having passed away, has been assigned as my Guardian Angel. Either way, I heard the voice in my head.

“Yep. You have been given a sign, a sign that it is time to go in the house and let the mower cool off. While you're at it, why don't you cool yourself off, you moron? I mean, I can't make you go in the house; I don't work that way. But if you insist on ignoring My sign, and pull the starter cord on that thing right now, I can blow your ass up! I do work that way! So, what's it gonna be, Dumbass?”

I went in the house.

As I passed my son, who was playing a computer game this whole time, he took one look at me and said “You okay, Dad?”

“Nope.” I replied, as I went straight into the bathroom and took a cool shower. Not cold. Cool. When I'm overheating, cool feels like an ice-bath on my skin, and I didn't want my son to hear me crying. It worked wonders, though, and I was out in about 15 minutes feeling much better.

“I'm going out to finish the grass,” I told Handsome. “If you get hungry enough, in like an hour or two, and pry yourself away from that game for long enough to ask me about lunch, and you look out that back window and see me sprawled on the grass out there, just call 911. And bring me some ice. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He's pretty used to me, so he didn't get too alarmed. Not alarmed at all, really. As I recall, he never looked away from the screen as we spoke. I went back outside.

The thing about overheating is that once I start to do it, it takes a long time for my core to cool down. That means that it's pretty easy for me to overheat again for a long time afterward. So I rapidly began to overheat again. Did I go in? Nope. Stubborn (or stupid!), remember? I finished the yard, panting most of the time, and I could feel the redness setting in again as I put the mower away in the garage. The garage. Where we keep the trimmer. I took the trimmer down, telling myself Well, this is a quick thing. I can just walk about with this and get the trimming done nice and fast, and then it's back in the shower for me...

I started the trimming, working my way along the driveway to the front of the house, then across the front, doing the walkway, and then -whazzap! The trimmer was out of line.

I tried to open the line-feeder to make sure that it was empty, and that the line had not simply snapped off just inside the feeder, and I could just feed more out by hand and continue. It was while I was doing that I heard George again.
“Look, stupid, go in the house. I know the trimmer has never done this before, but I work in mysterious ways. Yes, it's empty. And no, there is no replacement line in the garage. You think I'd forget something like that? You think this is My first time having to deal with an idiot? I swear to Me, sometimes it's like you don't have the brains I gave you...”

I went in the house again. To stay this time. Handsome gave me a funny look as I passed him on the way to the shower, probably because I was quietly giggling. He may have thought I was delirious, but nope. I just have voices in my head.

And I just love George Carlin!

Talk to you later!


P.S. - I promise, I'll get away from the anhidrosis thing soon, and tell a few funny stories. Pinky swear!