Lawn Lessons, part...too many

I decided, having accomplished little else today, that I would mow the back yard this afternoon. I can't seem to shake this 'nothing matters and I'm so screwed anyway, so why not just sleep and drink and snack?' mood I have. Deciding it wasn't too hot in the late afternoon sunshine, I put on liberally stained sneakers and shoved the fully-gassed mower to the gate that keeps my dog safely in her yard.

"I let her out," I confessed to Friend last weekend. "I thought she'd stay with me." That statement earned me a wry look and I ducked my head sheepishly. "Well, Brother's dog is good! And Chienne always stays inside her gate like a good girl. So I told her she could come out and walk to the garage with me! But then she ran away."

Friend nodded.

"But she did come back," I offered and when I only got another look in return, I qualified the statement. "After she was gone for several minutes and we got in the car to go find her and she hopped inside once we pulled down the street."

"I learned that lesson," I said earlier today, talking to Chienne this time as she wagged her tail at me. "You stay there," I ordered and she waited like a good dog while I pushed the mower inside and closed the gate behind me.

"Oh," I gasped, prancing away from the front corner of the yard. "No, no, no, no, no!" Firmly resolving not to think about what I had seen, I moved to the back patio and yanked the cord to bring the machine rumbling to life. I moved around the edges of the fence twice and began on the far side of the yard as I clipped the grass.

Lesson: It's much easier to do what I should than to procrastinate. Mowing every other week is hard and requires restarting the mower multiple times when it becomes choked with clippings. It's only been 7 days since I last mowed and it was quick and easy.
Application to Life: I should keep up with journals and keep revising and writing papers even when I really don't want to deal with any of it. It's easier to keep up than catch up.

Lesson: Battles work. As I wandered the yard, I noticed with utter delight that the spikey weeds were gone! In fact, I saw nary a dandelion or spikey weed or anything other than healthy grass! Throwing $60 at the Lowe's people in exchange for a big bag of Weed and Feed and a cool spreader, then spending a morning depositing far too many chemical-laden pellets around my yard killed my spikey weeds!
Application to Life: Attack! When I notice a problem and frown and stomp and complain over it, it's probably worth directing that energy toward something useful. It's not fair that journal editors and potential employers and co-authors ignore me! So instead of pouting while I wait to take another nap, I need to start pushing again. It seems like a tremendous amount of work right now, but those weeds don't kill themselves.

I may have missed a few spots while I was finishing the lawn since I was studiously avoiding any glances near the gate. I pushed the mower back toward the garage, and started to chat with Friend online.

Me: There's a dead bunny in my back yard.
Friend: Uh oh.
Me: Uh oh. Shriek. Whatever.
Friend: Do you require assistance?
Me: Obviously. Unless dead bunnies decompose Really Fast.

But we continued to discuss how she'd only do it tonight before it got gross (I already thought it was the epitome of awful, but whatever.) and how she'd just gone home to her cats and how that wasn't fair. She expressed some confidence - despite my repeated claims that I Can't and I'd Vomit - that I could deal with it.

So I closed the laptop and walked to the garage, taking a giant garbage bag, a shovel and an edging tool toward the back gate. Keeping my gaze firmly away from the furry corpse, I leaned the shovel against the wooden pickets and reached to tug the gate open. Then I saw the tiny eyes and the sweet, little feet and started to shake as I scampered toward the front of the house again.

"No, no, no," I said firmly. "Can't, can't, can't."

I came in to complain to Friend that if my neighbors hasn't let their lawns grow into meadows then the bunnies wouldn't have lived there and tried to escape into my yard! It wasn't fair! I didn't do anything to deserve this!

But, Friend reminded me, it was my dog who might drag in the bunny. And my house which would begin to reek when the dead bunny started to smell. Not my fault, perhaps, but it was officially my problem.

"OK," I told Chienne when I went to get two large paper towels and a plastic bag to cover the poor creature while I tried to maneuver it into a garbage bag. "I'm trying again." The dog, brown eyes wide, wisely stayed inside when I went out the back door.

"Just cover you up," I said, turning my head to the side and dropping one towel, peeking over to realize it had almost removed the body from my sight. "I have another one - I'll try again," I murmured in my squeaky I'm-freaking-out voice. "Now I'm just going to slide the shovel underneath and lift and drop." I didn't even have time to sigh with relief before I realized I'd ever so carefully moved the two paper towels into the bag and the bunny remained on the ground. This necessitated a short, grossed-out dance about the yard while I hopped and scampered to gather enough nerve to try again.

"It's done," I emailed Friend a few moments later. "Now I'm sick."

After I washed my hands five times and showered twice, I think I'm clean enough. (No, I never actually came close to touching the creature. But it's better to be safe!) As for the lesson, who knows? I had to deal with a dead bunny! But it's probably something about being more capable than I think I am, sucking it up and dealing with problems even when the issue isn't really my fault and how sometimes really, really, really, really, really icky stuff happens and all there is to do is cope.

Maybe I should shower again.