Things I've Learned Today - It's Illegal To Walk Around Your House Without A Shirt On

So...

I cut my front yard last Sunday before it started to rain (I didn't get my back yard cut). But because last week I put fertilizer on it, it's growing nonstop. So by Wednesday, it looked like a jungle. Great. Isn't August the time of year when we don't HAVE to cut grass anymore. We have so little to look forward to in Cleveland. In exchange for being one of the cloudiest cities in the US (which I've been told before but I can't promise is actually true, nothing which stops people from telling things online anyway), horrible winters, lake effect snow, the curse of the sports teams...due to all this, we get the satisfaction of not having to cut the grass in the humid dog days of August because it hasn't rained in weeks and the grass just ain't growing anymore. BUT NO. Not this year. This year it's been raining. This year, because I bought a house, God is being cruel and I still have to cut my grass. In August. All together now...Grr...

Anyway, I'm desperate to cut my grass because - well, I think I've already mentioned the lawn nazis I live by, and I can't tomorrow since I have to go into work and then I've got tickets to see Oliver! (As far as I can tell, the exclamation mark is in the title of the play. In no way does this suggest my excitement to see Oliver!) Anyway, I walk outside. It's grey (naturally). I try to start my lawn mower. Something you might as well know. I'm not really sure how to start my lawn mower. I know to push the red button a few times and then pull the cord. The problem is, you also have to hold down this thing. But there are two things, one to turn it on and the other to somehow make it move on it's own. And I'm never sure which. Inevitably I try to hold the wrong one. It won't start. It's evidentially like starting a car in gear. Ain't gonna happen. So then I do the whole thing over again. I invariably end up pushing the red button too many times, and flooding it. So now I have to wait. Patience. Not a strong suit of mine. Today I pretended it was done on purpose b/c I needed more gas in the mower. I didn't, but it lets me save face. I'm trying not to be "the girl who can't live alone because she's a girl" girl in my homeowning attemps. I fear I'm failing.

Anyway, I start to cut my grass,I walk down the tree line twice and it starts to rain. I am not pleased by these events. But I keep going. And I cut all the tree lawn, and then start on the side, and by then it's literally pouring and icky and it's a good thing that I'm wearing an orange shirt but not a white shirt. And then my lawn mower starts coughing up wet grass. So obviously that's not gonna work anymore. I reluctantly give up and come inside. Soaked.

So I'm sitting in my family room, watching tv in my wet shit. And it occurs to me that I'm just.not.comfortable. So I take the shirt off, but I don't have a clean shirt in my laundry room on the first floor because, oh, I haven't done laundry since gosh knows when. Meaning I have to go upstair to get a new shirt. But do I really want to put the wet shirt back on? Absolutely not. And it's just upstairs. So I walk to get upstairs. Go figure, right? The hallway leads straight to the front door. Which isn't a problem - unless your front door is open. Which mine is. D'oh. So I *quickly* move upstairs. I vaguely note a cop car parked on my street right outside my house with a cop with a radar detector (I hate cops sometimes.) I run upstairs, grab a new t-shirt, put it on, and am on my way downsairs when I see the cop walking up my drive. Double d'oh! He walks up to my door and explains to me (very politely, mind you) that I cannot go walking around the the house without a shirt on.

(For those that recall, this is similar to what happened to me about a year ago when I was pulled over by a cop. That time I wasn't wearing pants. This time I wasn't wearing a shirt. So put together, cops have seen me naked. Great...)

And again, we go back to my comment earlier this week - these things never happen to the Stepford perfect people. Or people with common sense.

Sigh.