Me vs Lawnmower!

We got our wonderful lawnmower from a friend of D's. A free lawnmower in fact. It has been pretty great. For my husband. In my experience with it, well...let's just say I don't think we are friends.

The first time I mowed the grass, it cut off. Just quit running. I was maybe 3/4 done with the yard, and no power.

Thankfully, my husband and his fad were home. Within short order they diagnosed the problem, and it was soon fixed. (at some point, there was mention of it "acting like it ran out of gas" remember that.)

The next time mowed grass was full of usual things, except perhaps that I got sunburnt. And scraped by all the trees in the yard.

The next adventure mowing the grass seemed promising. And then, much to my frustration, the lawn mower started acting like it was going to run out of gas, and then cut off.

Now, I know lawn mowers need gas, but I have never had to put gas in one (thanks Daddy), nor did I have any recall of where my husband told me the gas was. So I texted him, and got a response.

When I found the gas can, I found 2. So I texted him again to find out exactly which can was for the lawnmower (as it turns out, the other is for the weed eater. If I had put that in the lawnmower, we would have been draining the tank.) With a full tank, I finish the yard, great end to the day?

No.

I then proceed to smell dog poop as I turn sometimes. When I stop the mower, I discovered I ran over 2 lovely piles, one on each back tire. So then I had to drag out the water hose to clean the tires. Not my day.

Enter this week. I start to mow the grass, but realize after about 3 laps that the grass is still pretty wet. So I stop, and go to Walmart. I'm about 5 minutes from home and it starts pouring. I can't finish mowing. I wait until the afternoon and get about 3/4 finished and decide to call it a day.

So today, the darn mower won't start. AGAIN. A text and a reply from my hubby and I am on task again with the advice "Just crank it over and over until it starts. And don't burn up the motor."

I find success and finish mowing the yard. As I turn to drive the mower back across the grass, I smell burning wood. "huh, someone must be burning a brush pile. Strange to do at lunchtime."

Oh. Stupid. Me.

When I stop the mower in front of the garage, I notice that there is black smoke pouring out from under the hood. Fantastic.

Another call to the hubby, and I discover that it has, after several minutes stopped smoking. When D got home, he took off the hood, discovering a pile of burned grass.

Good news: I didn't burn up the mower.

Bad news: because I didn't burn up the mower, we still have it. And I'm pretty sure it hates me.