Tuesday, May 1, 2012
First, I would like to address the title of my post, and only to the extent that "mundundities" is my own fecundity. I meant it as a derivative of "mundane." What's the point of English if you can't make up words. (How ridiculous is it to say whats the point of English if you can't make up words?! I mean if we made up all of our words then there wouldn't actually be a point to English. So you know what? I apologize for making up the word Mundundities. But I don't apologize so much as to change it.)
Second, I would like to address the word fecundity. Hello, fecundity. (I shouldn't think that's funny, I know.)
Third, I would like to write a short story about my lawn mower struggles. It is as follows:
Liz and I have recently purchased a home. We purchased it in late October so there was no need to immediately buy a lawn mower because the grass had stopped growing. SO, this spring the grass started growing again, as is its way. But I was unprepared. I had no mower! (Cue music that is supposed to add suspense, indicating that the primary conflict has arisen.) (I told you it was mundane. Or at least it was implied in the title.)
I could have done what a normal person would do and go to a local hardware store to purchase a lawn mower, but I had gotten it my head that I could buy one second hand from a pawn shop. After many visits to local pawn shops, I had finally found one at a good price which would serve my purposes. The owner said he wanted to change out the air filter but if I would come back tomorrow I could buy it. So that's what I did. But the next day it had been sold.....
What a jerk who does that? (sigh) They told me to go down the street to another pawn shop. This was on my lunch break mind you, so I was in a nice suit. It is a navy suit which I had expertly paired with a sort of brownish lavender shirt with a white and navy tie. I don't mean to brag but I looked good. Court-ready even. I would blow away a jury with my suave demeanor. Yes, in a court room I would be at home, but as it happened I was very self-conscious of pawn shopping in a suit. (I was also self conscious of the fashion forward shirt, if I'm honest). So unhappily I went to a second pawn shop. They had several mowers to choose from. A short gray haired man showed me out to the back in order to make an easy sale.
We turned each of them on, one by one.
I pretended to inspect each carefully. Hoping to evoke a sense that I might know what to look for in a second-hand lawn mower so as to get a better deal. I made an offer 20 bucks below asking price. My brownish lavender shirt and navy suit betrayed me. The short gray haired man staired blankly for a moment and then repeated the asking price of $90. I capitulated grudgingly.
So there I was, in my nice suit in a parking lot in a somewhat shady part of town, the proud owner of a shiny second hand mower. (Well it was better described as rusty than shiny.) Then there was the matter of transporting the mower back to my home.
I drive a small 2008 Sentra. It's pretty sweet. I don't wanna brag but, yeah, it's a compact.
Well, not quite. It kind of hung out the back and I didn't have any bungie chords. SO after getting my suit quite dirty I managed to put it in my back seat. I think the pawn shop employees thought it was pretty funny, but they did not offer to help. Jerks.
Long story short. The mower crapped out half way through my lawn resulting in, but not limited to, the following itemized events:
1. Feeble attempts to fix it.
2. Embarrassing neighbor interactions in which they mowed my lawn in my absence.
3. Uncontrollable weeping.
4. A return to the pawn shop.
5. A brief argument as to whether they would give me my money back that I won (Lawyered).
6. And a new mower purchased from Wal-Mart. (sigh).