Ever used a weed whacker? I’m not even sure how to spell the stupid thing much less use one with any skill. If you’ve done any kind of yard work, you have no doubt used one of these devilish devices … or, seen someone else using one. Those smug someone-else users make it all look so simple. My husband is one of these smug guys. Fred would walk along casually whacking weeds. This is a long stick-like device with a whirring ball of special weed whacking wire. Fred worked a lot of Saturdays, and I grew to be quite skilled at lawn mowing. I would leave the weed whacking to Fred. Until one day.
As I triumphantly wheeled the mower into the garage, there was the weed whacker dangling from its hook. I swear it looked so smug up there. I thought, “How difficult could this be?” I decided to give it a try. I took it down from the wall, carried it and the loops of extension cord across the yard. I was going to whack around the crabapple tree.
There I was. All poised to whack some weeds. I flipped the switch. That thing went immediately airborne. It whirred straight up in the air like it was one of those water divining rods, and it wasn’t raining. I screamed at the surge of power and, of course, let go. This demonic lawn implement must have been designed by Stephen King. It went chomping and whirring into the mulch around the tree.
I ran to the garage and yanked the power cord from the wall. The beast went silent. Still, I approached it slowly. Unreasonably, I expected it to whir back to life. Much like a felled lion; perhaps more stunned than dead.
I dragged the carcass from the mulch, cleaned it up the best I could and hung my trophy back on the garage wall along with its power cord entrails.
When my husband got home, I said, “I tried to do the weed whacking. It was not a successful event.”