I don’t consider myself to be high maintenance, but maybe that’s just a self-delusion. I don’t need to have the latest looks, gadgets, gizmos. Heck, I shop at thrift stores and have curb-mart’ed a few items in my day. I do spaz out at times, which could be construed as high maintenance of an emotional kind.
I am willing to work hard and don’t shy away from the non-girl stuff. I know how to use power tools. I will climb trees. I will shovel poop. I know how to jump-start cars and lawn mowers.
I am thankful
I try to keep an attitude of gratitude. Now, I will admit that sometimes it takes a few seconds/minutes to kick in if the situation isn’t so great. Times like when the mower wires that you have to disconnect to keep the battery from draining when it’s not in use aren’t staying connected when you’re trying to mow. Or when it gets stuck when I am pushing it out of the garage to jump-start it. Or when the mower blades don’t engage after I get it started. Hey, I’m human.
I am thankful for
I have so much to be thankful for, really. How can one complain when the sun is shining and you have the chance to be outside with your children, animals, nature? We have a nice home surrounded by beautiful property and green grass that grows nice and tall. Not everyone has that. Our old house had so much shade that I only had to mow twice a MONTH.
I am thankful for my
I am so blessed to have my: family, friends, job that’s flexible, dog, mules, internet connection, mp3 player, hearing so I can listen to songs while riding the mower for 90 minutes, eyesight to see the lawn potholes, cushy backside so the bumps don’t hurt as much, sports bras.
I am thankful for my handyman
Gosh, it is nice to be around someone who really knows how to fix things. I’m not afraid to try to figure things out, but it’s great to know I can call on someone who really knows their stuff. So when the mower steering ability breaks while I’m driving full speed around a tree after having mowed only a third of the yard and then I get it stuck while limping it into the garage, I know that rather than blowing it up completely (which is really, really – REALLY – what I wanted to do), I can simply make a call and know help is on the way.
I am thankful for my handyman Country Boy.
Because no one knows how to breathe life back into a mower that was destined for the trash heap more than my handyman Country Boy. No one can show me the twenty-step process for even getting it started and make it seem like normal like he does.
No one can make me get back onto a machine that I swore I would never operate again like that handsome handyman.
I am thankful for my handyman Country Boy because we won’t have to figure out a way to buy another lawn mower.
And, best of all, I am thankful for my handyman Country Boy because I won’t have to shovel poop left around the property from the four-legged lawn mowers that were my only other option.