This Amazon Lawn

Wow... sorry, I almost dropped dead just then. I think my heart stopped temporarily after mowing the lawn this evening. Mowing the lawn should be my father's job, not mine. Well, it's not "technically" mine, but when one of my dogs practically vanished into the tall grass this week it became my job because it's not something that tops my dad's priority list. This is the way it is with a lot of stuff at home. Jobs are mine because otherwise they don't get completed.

I'm not whining, really. Sometimes being the oldest in the family of a single parent (my mom died of cancer 12 years ago) and significantly younger siblings makes you first in line for getting things done. I see the gifts this has given me though and I'm grateful for that. At the very least, the loss of my mother has made work very hard and assume responsibility easily. I take on the tasks that need doing - no questions asked - and I do them. After a while though, this gets tiring and overwhelming and exhausting and maddening and and and then I lash out.

So, today's lashing out exercise was to only cut the grass in the backyard. The front lawn will become my father's task :) The grass was so long that the lawnmower kept shutting off. I had to yank on that blinkin' cord a billion times before the motor would catch (I don't boast serious upper body strength so that was SUPER fun). By the end of it my knees were aching, my heart was beating into my eardrums, my pulse was throbbing through my veins, my sweat was streaking its way through my make-up and my hair was a nightmare. Lucky for me I'm leaving the house shortly to have my highlights touched up :)

Perhaps this blog really is my therapy session or online diary. Today, I needed to vent and I found a place. To end on an even happier note, my dad just got home and said he'd cut the front lawn. My baby sister (she's 16) called him and told him how I was struggling with clenched teeth to get the lawn looking decent. This is why, no matter how much I might complain to myself about cleaning up after my family, I still do it because every so often, somebody notices and appreciates my efforts.

NOTE: I just let my fingers type out this blog. I started with a plan, but let my thoughts carry on as they pleased. If I'm lacking structure, a common theme or a logical flow it's because sometimes the words choose themselves.

Speak soon, Major Gal.

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