Outstanding in my field

My lawn was starting to look untidy.  I mowed, but instead of a neat, crisp mow, I'd be left with the grassular equivalent of split ends.  I thought perhaps, maybe, it might finally be time to get the blade sharpened.

I got this mower at least four years ago, before we left the great state of Wisconsin.  I mowed my Wisconsin lawn repeatedly with the fine one-pull-starty goodness that was a new mower after spending two seasons fighting with a 30-year-old start-resistant machine.  Since then, Florida 'lawns' have taken their toll on the newness.  I might as well have been mowing repeatedly over the stump of our frost-killed palm tree.  Or a large rock.  The blade was awful.  Never have I seen such a thing.  A co-worker chastised me, telling me that the blade should be sharpened every year.  You should have seen his reaction when I told him that no, I've never changed the mower's oil, either.

I'm a bad lawnmower parent. 

But now, the blade is sharp.  Sharpie McSharperson.  Bladish Von Mowsalot.  And, as if to taunt me, the weather turned Florida-humid yesterday before I picked the blade up, just so I couldn't use it.  Well, I could have, certainly, but I didn't mow my Florida lawn when the weather was like that, no way was I mowing the Ohio lawn. 

And now, the weather's turned mild again between the rain, and I should probably face the task at hand, since Quincy's grazing.  Soon, we'll lose him in the great pampas field of our back yard, and I'll have an entire oak grove in the front thanks to the damn squirrels.  The neighbors are scalping ever further into my yard with each time they mow, and I don't roll like that.  (Why do mowers even come with that lowest setting anymore?  We've all learned it's bad for the grass.)

Ooops, wait, it's raining.  Never mind.