Mowing the lawn in the Georgia heat can be a real treat. You either outsource it, get paralyzed into not doing it until your neighbors start whispering to each other, or grin and bear it. I have a friend who embraces mowing and tells me he throws on a cowboy hat, blasts Johnny Cash into his I-pod, and smiles the whole time.
Me? I grin and bear it with mixed emotions. Immediately before mowing, the voice of an old finance friend of mine, John Berkeley, keeps repeating over and over in my head, "Housing's a terrible investment..."
Once the job is complete (and a cold one is cracked), I get this bizarre sense of Randian accomplishment. As I look out into my backyard, through my dehydrated, dizzy, and sweat-filled eyes, I usually see something like this:

Nice touch with the creek.
Posted by: Corey Carpenter | July 03, 2009 at 04:48 PM