Why I Lawn Whisper by L.W.

This is the last installment of the Guest Blogging by the Lawn Whisperer. William Should be back tomorrow. Hopefully everyone enjoyed William's brother's take on things.

I am the self proclaimed Lawn Whisperer. I take great pride in having the nicest lawn in the neighborhood. I love when my neighbors ask for advice, and I won’t give it to them. I recently told my one neighbor this, “Bob, I’ll give you a few secrets, but only if you promise to move.” “What?” he said, looking confused. I said, “ Listen, if I give you advice, and your lawn takes off, then I won’t have the nicest lawn anymore. So you agree to move out of the neighborhood, and I will give you some pointers.” Needless to say, Bob didn’t move, and his lawn still looks like shit.

The real beauty of taking care of the lawn is that I get to do it all by myself. Well, me and Monster. Monster is my mower. It’s short for the Green Monster, named after the famed left field fence at Fenway Park. Monster is a 36-inch, Bunton Walk Behind. I have the rider Velkee attachment that I stand on to ride. My wife got that for me, best damn present I ever got. Me and Monster, twice a week, that’s 3 hours of freedom. Count them guys, three hours of peacefulness in one week. You can’t beat it. This is the real reason that I whisper to the lawn.

My lawn is my fourth kid. I treat her the same as my other three kids. I give her all the TLC she deserves. And you know what? She appreciates me. My lawn has never talked back to me. My lawn has never poured her dinner on the floor. My lawn has never borrowed the car. My lawn has never left the playroom a mess, then yelled at me for making her clean up. My lawn has never hit her brother, just because. My lawn has never given me a headache. My lawn has never called me stupid. My Lawn has never thrown up all over the bed at two in the morning. My lawn has never thrown up all over the bed at three in the morning, after I changed the sheets at two in the morning. My lawn never used the coffee table as a launching pad, and the couch as a landing pad. My lawn listens to me. I whisper to my lawn, and she says nothing back. Did you hear that…nothing. I love my lawn. I take care of my lawn. I whisper to my lawn, and she listens. I can’t tell you what I say to my lawn, cause if my wife found out, I’d be divorced.