We have mowers/edgers/grass-clippings-blower guys who come on Tuesday mornings. They take care of a few lawns on our street. And, then, another set of lawn guys come to a couple of other houses, on another day. For the most part, we are senior adult folks, and, if we didn’t have the lawn guys, our yards would look awful. Or, the senior adult folks would be keeling over onto their lawns on a regular basis.
Our guys charge $40.00 each Tuesday. Most Monday evenings, I write a check and put it in an envelope that I clip to the mailbox each Tuesday morning. Sometimes, I’m alerted to the roar of the lawn mower, edger, clipping blower, and I have to rush to put the envelope out on the mail box. Sometimes, I have to put on clothes to do that. I guess I could reach out, in my nightgown, and clip the envelope on, but it just seems more, um, seemly, to appear actually dressed. (Sometimes, I have to actually write that check, on Tuesday morning, after being reminded by hearing the roar of those machines.)
Last Monday evening, I carefully wrote the check and put it in the envelope. Then I set the envelope on the desk that is right there by the front door. So organized. Then I went to bed. I’d been a little under the weather for the previous few days, and had been going to bed a little earlier than usual, which I did, last Monday night. I went to sleep pretty quickly and slept pretty soundly.
I woke up on Tuesday morning, feeling better and pretty well-rested. I thought: I need to go put the mowers’ check out. I looked at the clock. It was 8:30!! Yikes. Yikes. And more Yikes! The mowers come around 7:30 each Tuesday morning. Had I slept through the mowers? Maybe they hadn’t come yet. (Oh, please.)
I looked out at the yard. Oh, yes, they had come. And mowed. And I HAD INDEED SLEPT THROUGH THE MORNING’S MOWING!
Our bedroom is at the front of the house. Our bed is up against the wall at the front of the house. My head was about a foot away from the large, riding mower that was making back and forth mowing lines right there by my head. And I’d slept through it.
I guess I was more tired than I thought I was.
And, when I stepped out, later, to retrieve our mail, clipped to our mail box, was an invoice for the $40.00 payment for mowing. I wish they’d rung the doorbell. Only I’d probably have slept through it.
How long will you lie there, O lazybones?
When will you rise from your sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest,
and poverty will come upon you like a robber,
and want, like an armed warrior.