One Bad Mamma Jamma

Yes, I can work a power tool.  I can also take apart a toilet and reassemble it with no problem.  I don't understand why other maintenance wives aren't like me.  Oh, well probably because their husbands do the husband work around the house.  Lucky bastards.

The scraggly, no name weeds called bushes on the side of the house were out of control posing a threat to our precious air conditioner.  They needed to be trimmed so that The Precious could work to its fullest efficiency.  The weeds concerning all other areas of our yard were also out of control.  Enter:  The Reciprocating Saw.

I stepped onto the porch, wielding the saw like a large semi-automatic rifle, sunglasses in place.  I looked across the street to The Dog That Never Stops Barking and said, "Shuddap."  The dog stopped barking.

I hacked trees, took out entire bushes, chopped down whozits and whatzits.  I mashed and mangled.  I dragged, I pitched, I threw.  I also got a nice tan.  (and several horrible scratches and ant bites, but that's beside the point)

Nothing makes me feel more tough than holding an over sized power tool.  A pack of teenagers flocked down the street, whooping and hollering.  I thought to myself that if any of them messed with me, I had a nice weapon for defense.  This, of course, was absurd.  Teenagers aren't that annoying.  I mean, it's not like they were in Wal-Mart or anything.  Still, I bet folks would be keen to get out of my way if I did have a saw in my hand.  I need a REALLY long extension cord....