Or, Kabbage is Losing It
I love reel mowers.
When you own one, you can get a bee in your bonnet to whack at some of the grass at 9:30 at night on a work/school night without irking the neighbors. I can't wait to see what my backyard looks like in the morning. My grass is really long, and we had rain most of the weekend. I decided to see if the grass was still short enough to mow by randomly mowing a strip. It is, and I did. Then I started zooming around the yard from taller patch to taller patch in interesting ways. I think I got about half of it mowed. Mowing in something other than straight lines was curiously freeing. Sort of like rolling down hills.
I haven't rolled down hills much lately, although I found doing so very helpful in 2006. I was telling a friend about how bad my depression has been lately, and she asked if I had rolled lately. Huh? I asked. You know, down hills. That really seemed to help you a lot, came the reply.
I hadn't thought about it, but she's right in the sense that I felt like I was making progress back then, and I don't now. I already think I need to try anti-depressants again (yeah, that interesting observation: I have no problem with other people using anti-depressants, but I get extremely pissed off when I think I'd better use them before I become totally non-functional). Getting them into my system and tweaked for the chronic depression would be a good thing before I add acute, situational depression on top by losing Sleek. I don't think there are enough hills to roll down to compensate for losing my Best Blonde (and I'm not talking about Mrs. G., although losing her voice would be depressing, too).