I was heading off to work yesterday when I noticed that somebody had left the weed trimmer in the front yard. It didn’t strike me as incredibly strange, as I knew the kids were messing around with some of my garage tools the day before (taming the amazon jungle that lurks just outside of my yard). When I got home, we asked the kids who had left the weed trimmer out and were met with the usual replies of “not me!”. Nothing out of the ordinary. So we did what we always do in “not me” situations. We just picked one of them and said “go put it away!”.
As my ten year old was heading towards the garage with the weed trimmer, he looked over at me and said:
“This isn’t ours, you know. Ours is still hanging up in the garage.”
Now I started to get confused. I was looking straight at the trimmer and knew it to be mine, or one that looked just like mine. That’s when it all came back to me. I had discarded that trimmer, at least 3 months ago.
A few years back, I’d picked up a Black N Decker Brush Hog at a garage sale for about $15. I wanted to try out a cordless trimmer to tote around my rather large yard. As I found out, though, the batteries (especially used, garage sale batteries) on a cordless trimmer will only run the trimmer for about 6 minutes without a re-charge, and only 2 of those minutes with enough power to decimate a piece of grass. So, this spring I finally decided to go buy an electric trimmer that would actually be usable for my entire backyard. Thus, I discarded the bush hog and it’s batteries onto the curb for the trash man to sort out.
As sometimes happens in my neighborhood, one man’s trash is another’s treasure, and somebody sneaked off with my cordless trimmer before trash pickup. It never bothers me when someone does that. If they can find good use for something that I don’t have any need for, all the better for them, me, and the environment. Apparently, however, the disappearance of the trimmer was a temporary situation. I can picture the scavenger of my trash trying to use the cordless trimmer all summer, having as much frustration as I did, and finally giving up.
The funny thing is, I’m not even mad. I’m just impressed that the guy was steamed enough to pack the trimmer up, drive all the way over to my house, and chuck it back into my front yard in the dead of night. That type of action takes some serious planning!