I am not really fond -- in fact, really not fond, not even halfway or in posse or partially or potentially fond, of the roar of power-mowers.
Oddly, I don’t mind the sound so much when it is I who am doing the mowing, since then after all it forms a gestalt with my moves and purpose. My wife says I ought to wear ear-guards when I mow, but I never do; perhaps hoping that eventually I’ll go deaf, and so be spared the clamor of other people’s mowers. (And weed-whackers. And leaf-blowers.)
No comments:
Post a Comment