Today, I’d like to give a big shout out to anyone who learned to start a lawn mower after their divorce. God, lawn mowers are intimidating. I remember I bought a rusty red one off my back neighbor after my first divorce. The guy was a weirdo who hoarded lawn mowers. He had them until styrofoam coolers, stored by the dozen stuffed under his deck in various degrees of disintegration. But hey, I was a single mom on a limited budget, so he sold me one that ran pretty well for $50.
I hated pulling that cord, trying to get the blasted thing to start. And who the hell knows how to maintain lawn mowers? Oil? Sharpening the blades? Even if you’re committed to their care, you have to fold them like an Origami Project from Hell to get one to fit in the back of a car.
And then there is the Lawn Mowing Walk of Shame. Nothing says “Hi, I live alone” like mowing your own yard.
Maybe for you it wasn’t lawn mowing, it was braiding a daughter’s hair, or shopping for training bras. Or some other gender-prescribed chore o’ doom. Taking out the trash, cooking, cleaning gutters…
Or maybe you were just used to doing absolutely everything and you realized, hey, I don’t miss this person. I was already single and just never knew it.
But today, tell me your small acts of mighty domesticity!