I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Part II

In an earlier post, I related how I’m the not sharpest knife in the drawer…but somehow I seem to know how to find it and stick myself with it anyway.

In today’s post, I relate how I’m just not the sharpest knife in the drawer, period. To wit or for lack of wit, my mechanical stupidity or just plain stupidity when it comes to our lawn mower.

Two years ago when we moved, it was our first time with an actual lawn. Before we had been in apartments with only a gravel driveway, which we didn’t have to take care of — and which for that matter, our landlord didn’t seem to think he did either, especially during the winters, but I digress, nay, ramble…

But now with a small house in a country town, we have an actual lawn, both front and back. So we bought a lawn mower.

First time out, I ran over a down spout and then had to shear it off with a hacksaw, which I borrowed from a neighbor and which also promptly fell apart.Photobucket Image Hosting

Since then, I haven’t done much better.

Once I couldn’t figure out why grass was getting stuck underneath the mower. I kept looking and looking underneath the mower.

Can you tell the subtle difference between this:
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and this:
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I couldn’t– until almost an hour later when it dawned on me that I needed to switch this thingamabob OPEN to let the grass go out of the OPENING.

Then to top it all off, or most of this summer, I lost a screw that held the handle together and never replaced it. Instead, I kept using random sticks from our yard or our neighbor’s yard that would fit through the holes to keep the handle together.

Finally, this past weekend, I broke down and asked my neighbor Simon to help me out. Here’s what he used to fix it:

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It was quite a concept. I wish I had thought of that instead of putting in a new stick every time an old one broke. It only happened about three or four (dozen) times every time I mowed the lawn, so instead of it taking me an hour to mow the entire lawn, it would end up taking an hour and half.

The worse thing was while he was putting the nut, bolt and washers to help secure the handle, somehow I confused the nut and the bolt in my mind and called the nut “the bolt” and the bolt “the nut.” Even though I corrected myself, I imagined Simon saying to himself, “Uh huh, just what I thought, he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

This past weekend, I happened to see Simon and he asked me how the mower was working now. I almost wanted to respond, “Hey, I know my ass from a hole in the ground,” but I knew I’d probably say that wrong too: “I know my hole from an ass in the ground.” So I just said, “Fine. Thanks.”


Visit Humor-Blogs.com for folks who, for the most part, are pretty sharp knives in or out of their drawers– uh, whatever that means.

11 responses to “I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Part II

  1. Pingback: Saturday’s Me and You: 9/13/08 « An unfinished person (in this unfinished universe)

  2. Jenn: Hey, that’s right. Thanks for the vote of confidence and putting me up with Mac.

    The Wife: Uh, no comment, and thanks for sharing. 🙂

    Muskrat: I know it might be hard to imagine, but it’s hard to find Mex-Americans here. We live in lilywhite redneck country, where it’s even hard to find black (gasp) people.

  3. i finally figured out 2 weeks ago that it makes more sense to have the nice mexican-american come cut my grass a couple times a month instead of fooling with such confusing gadgets as the one you have pictured above. it only took 4 years.

  4. Some details were harmed in the making of this post, namely that two seconds after he unloaded the brand spanking new self-propelled Toro from the car, he put the wrong fluids in the wrong hole and THEN ran over the downspout once he flushed it out and got it going again. I heard this godawful noise outside that I was sure would be followed by a drive to the ER with some part of his body swathed in tea towels, and I go out to see what looks like little chewed up gray bits of plastic bag (but turn out to be SHRAPNEL from the downspout) all over the yard. I send him down the street for a new piece of downspout and the only piece he can get is about 10 feet long, hence the hacksawing. I made him carry it home.
    Seamus and I watched him jam one of his sticks in the handle one Saturday afternoon and the cat made a noise in his throat that sounded very much like ‘What the hell…?’.

  5. Well, um… even MacGyver had to start somewhere.

    The stick was a nice touch, I thought. Improv doesn’t always work out, is all. 🙂

  6. Lol.

    so… you feel less of a man..

    its okay.

    like MadMad Said– he probbly doesnt know how to write.

    And.. after he dies.. he will not have left near of as impact on the world wide web as you have..


  7. unfinishedrambler

    MadMad: Oh, he knows how to write. He’s in his final year at Penn State, where he’s going for a computer security degree (I’ve also had him help me work on my computer).

    Lisa (The Sister): I’m telling Mom and Dad. 😉

    Chatblanc: You shouldn’t feel guilty. I really am that stupid when it comes to mechanical things.

    Kathy: Oh, I do that all the time, and no, I’m not kidding.

  8. Hilarious! And you make me feel so much better. I took our new mower out and promptly dropped it off the curb, where the blades kept spinning and hitting the concrete. It took me over five seconds to think to let go of the bar so I wouldn’t completely ruin the thing. Never told my husband.

  9. haha! I almost feel guilty for laughing, but not that much! 😉 funn-ee!

  10. Take it from me, I’m his sister, he doesn’t know his hole from an ass in the ground.

    Nope. Nope. Not at all.

    And mom and dad, if you are reading this, it isn’t really me either.

  11. It’s OK, it’s OK. Don’t worry. HE probably doesn’t know how to write.