I've just fired the guy who has been doing my lawns for the past few years. That is, I left a message on his phone asking him to please send me the final bill, which is no doubt enormous by now because I haven't received one from him for maybe a year now (and don't think that means he's forgotten to charge me), because I've made other arrangements.
I think fifteen bucks to mow a couple of postage stamp-sized lawns is exorbitant, because he leaves most of the grass clippings behind (mostly plastered all over the walls of the house), and doesn't bother trimming the bits down the side of the fence. So he's gone, matey.
The lawnmower guy has been irritating me for a long time now, but I never got around to doing anything about it. But the other day a complete stranger, who just happened to be a competing lawnmower guy, started chatting to me outside my house. He was friendly, seemed to appreciate that I hate hearing the sound of a weedeater at dawn, and Baby liked him. Plus, his lower legs were completely covered in grass. If that isn't the sign of a dedicated grass cutter I don't know what is.
I will keep a close eye on him though, in case he morphs into a giant gopher-like lawn-eating creature from the Stephen King story.