Once more, I am on the lookout for someone to mow my lawn. The last people I hired, well Frank and his team of Maori landscape gardeners did a great job of peeling the vine from TLM's bedroom window and our attic. They cut down the taupata tree that grows weedily between the house and the fence. They removed the prickly thistle that made a walk down the path sound like something out of We're Going On A Bear Hunt ("through the thistle; scratch-tear, scratch-ow!, scratch-tear, scratch-ow!"). Every 2 to 4 weeks, a truckload of cuzzy-bro's would screech into my driveway, fall into my back yard and spend about ten minutes shaving the place.
Then they didn't show up for about 3 months. Actually, it's been more like 4 months by now. The backyard is waist-high on me - and neck-high on TLM ("through the grass; swishy-swashy, swishy-swashy"), and spews its highly allergenic pollens onto me whenever the wind blows (which is a LOT). Are they doing this to make me desperate? So they can charge me more money while I'm too asthmatic to complain?
The quote I got yesterday, from the nice young man with the limp handshake, was more expensive than what the cuzzy-bro's used to charge me. I guess it's time to find out how much it costs to buy a lawnmower - a garden shed to keep it in.
3 comments:
Sneeze
get the boy to do the cutting
Cuzzy-Bros! I haven't heard that term for years. Not since Mr Mac used to play rugby with a bunch of big, burly Kiwis and Polynesians!
I used to have a young bloke come and mow my lawn for me too, when Mr Mac was at sea. One day he came and saw I'd got a tattoo (my first) and was dead enthusiastic about it. So enthusiastic, he whipped his shirt off to show me all of his. At my front door. When my husband was away. In front of all the neighbours.
Oh no, Violet, you've made me all homesick for Melbourne!
angela: well, first we'd have to buy a lawnmower...
ms mac: Ooh, maybe I should get me a tattoo!
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