I mow the lawn for much the same reason that I wear a bra: for the sake of other people, people I don’t even know. (You’re welcome.)
No, I’m not bothered in the least by tall grass. However, I do get annoyed by itinerant grass cutters, who drive around in their pick-up trucks hauling a trailer full of lawn equipment — or, occasionally, just walk up and down the streets dragging a mower behind them. They offer to cut the grass “at a discount”, and I tell them no, because I can do it myself. In fact, I *am* doing it myself — it’s why I’m standing outside with our (reel) mower, pushing it back and forth across the lawn as it makes the grass shorter.
Even if we had the money to hire other people to maintain our front yard, I still wouldn’t do it. For one thing, it’s not that big of a yard. I am an able-bodied individual, I should be able to take care of a relatively small patch of grass. And if I can’t? Well, that might be a sign that I’ve got too much lawn.
But right now, mowing is the least of my concerns.
The house is a mess, I’m well on the way to being buried alive by deadlines*, and it’s the end of the month — which means that there’s no money for anything.
But at least Oreo’s enjoying life —
— and, if I thought for a moment that I could fit myself through the catio door, I’d join him.