I don't think I possess the proper amount of testosterone for the job. But this afternoon, I'm going to purchase a lawn care power tool.
It's an early father's day present for Tim, although I'm going to get him something else too, because I know how annoyed I'd be if he got me a kitchen appliance for mother's day. (However, I am not sure I would complain too loudly if a new fridge showed up at my front door.)
Our purchase: a Craftsman gas-powered string trimmer, with a 4-cycle motor that doesn't require mixing of oil and gas (a huge PITA, according to Tim) and a hassle-free string replacement system. This will replace the two non-functioning Black and Decker electric weed choppers currently hanging in our garage, with their 4000-foot extension cords that get wrapped around everything and everybody, and their tendency to use an entire spool of string in one afternoon.
The delivery truck arrives at the store at 2; I'm going to pick it up at 4. Nothing better stand in my way. I would have bought it on Monday but, after the Sears employee bent over backwards to sell me one, he realized the model I wanted was out of stock. Oops.
Then, weeds beware. I'll have a whacker and I won't be afraid to use it.