Dear Hubby finally listened to me and bought a weed whacker that isn’t too heavy for me to handle.  I really like this one.  It is battery powered.  There’s no electric cord to drag around or heavy gas tank to struggle with or refill. 

     Today was sunny and warm.  I decided to trim around the yard and gardens.  I was blithely trimming away then I stepped backwards and tripped over a couple of bricks.  As I looked at the sky, I pondered.  Why was I seeing the sky?  Gee, the hummingbird vine on the arbor needs trimming.  I hoped none of the neighbors saw me do that double deluxe flip.  Maybe I could tell them I was trying some new gymnastic move.  Yeah, sure.  They’d believe that.

     Time to take inventory.  Hey feet, you okay?  Yeah, we’re fine.  Ankles?  Still here.  Legs and knees?  We’re a go.  Hips?  Not a problem.  Back?  Spry as ever.  Shoulders, arms, and head?  Ready.  Whew. 

     Okay, the human was fine, but how was the machinery?  I stood, picked up the weed whacker, turned it on and it worked too.  What a relief.  I shut it off.  Then I heard my neighbor yell from her bedroom window, “Glad you got up.  I was ready to send my husband over to check on you.”

     Rats.