Exactly!

Click to increase its size, to enlarge, and to otherwise embiggen.

"Super Mega Spankball," indeed.

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Now, what am I going to do with that pound of bacon I cooked this morning? For some reason I cut it up into 1/2" wide slicelets before cooking it, so we now have a pile of homemade bacon bits.

The dog enjoyed the fatty bits at the end, even frozen. I'm sure there's some rule against it. Whatever.

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Is it so wrong of me to actually enjoy mowing the lawn? I enjoy putting down tracks in the grass, almost-perfectly parallel lines of progress, the scent of chlorophyll in the air, the sheen of well-earned sweat a tromp through the yard with a power mower affords.

Even emptying the clippings bag is kinda cool. Seeing the pile of shorn monocot tops on the side of the road is a sure sign that something constructive has been done. Turns out, being constructive can be enjoyable. Who knew?

Plus which? Mowing the yard is a constructive something that lasts longer than the results of doing the dishes or getting the laundry done or sweeping the floor. Those temporary turns of progress are almost wholly unsatisfying, for as sure as cows make patties there will be a dirty dish in the empty sink 5 minutes after the last crusty pot was rinsed and stacked. Not so with the yard. The yard doesn't have someone leaving random patches of long grass scattered about when you're not looking. It lasts, and therefore is totally worth the effort put into it to get it cut.

Even so, I can only do half the yard at a time. There is a limit to any enjoyment, whether constructive or frivolous.

Off to do the backyard now, and to put new string in the trimmer so I can edge too. Then maybe to the yard store to get some mums to amend the garden, because the marigolds have been hit with whitefly and they're looking a mite puny. Then to the pool, because hey, it's a holiday weekend and the days off should be ALL about home improvement, ya know?

Then there's a new drink I think I might like to try. Yum. 5 o'clock can't come soon enough.