Run, Fat Boy, Run!!

It was hot Sunday...or maybe I'm just lazy, yeah, that's probably more the truth. Well, whatever the reason was, I decided to put off mowing the grass until Monday. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Monday at work, the sky was bright, the sun was hot, and there was no indication that a storm lurked. I got home around 5:20, threw some shorts on and headed to the basement for my mowing shoes. While I was there, I made what I now realize, was my fatal mistake.

Laundry.

What does laundry have to do with mowing grass? Keep reading, and it will become clear.

As I was bouncing up the stairs, mowing shoes and a basket of towels in tow, Becky arrived home from work.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as it was odd I was actually doing laundry, and that I was thinking about mowing with the impending storm (which at this point, I still was unaware of.)

"Just thought I would grab these towels, and then go mow the grass like I promised I would."

She said the storm was racing our way. It relentlessly doused her on her trip home, and she suspected it would be hitting us very shortly.

I should have scrapped the plan, but at this point, I was pysched for mowing (oh, yeah...I have to get pysched up to mow...I'm lazy, remember?) I got the mower out and began.

The sky still looked clear. In the back of my head, I was laughing at the craziness of the thought of rain. I finished the back yard, and pulled the mower to the front, when I heard the crash of thunder in the distance.

I looked to the sky, and saw the black clouds rolling, slowly in my direction...I panicked. I started to jog the mower around the front yard.

"Come on, Tony, you can beat this..."

As the clouds got closer, my pace quickened. I made my way down the last row of grass, killed the beast, and made my way for the back. I was going to win. As I jogged, I noticed a tuft of grass I had missed. In a split second, my options were clear:

1. Forget the grass, no one will notice.
2. Fire up the beast and swipe that missed area.

I looked at the small section, and even though that grass was like a soldier, begging for me to save myself, I couldn't. I pulled the chord to the mower, and made the cut. Just as I had killed the beast, the first drops of rain started to fall, large and slow at first...

I made my way quickly across the front yard. With a mighty pull, I picked the beast up the stairs to the side porch and into the back yard. The sky opened up. The rain beat down fast and furiously down on me. I gave thought to ditching the mower, but it was pointless...I was going to get wet, I may as well go all the way.

I slammed the beast into the shed, and pumped my legs towards the house.

"Run, fat boy, run!!"

The house seemed so far away. I ran hard. I ran fast. (Ok, I don't run fast, who am I Carl Lewis?) I opened the door to the house and bounded into the towel draped arms of Becky, who had a compassionate look on her face...even if she was thinking "I told you so." I thanked her...not for being right about the rain, but for the towel. Come to think of it, if I hadn't brought those towels up from the laundry, I would have been greeted with only arms, because:

1. I wouldn't have needed a towel, because I would have beat the rain.

and

2. The towels would have still been in the dryer!

I ended up just slightly wet from the rain, but more so from the sweat. It took me a minute to catch my breath (the house is, like, 40 feet from the shed, people!!!) but then I muttered to Becky...

"Damn that laundry!!"