Mowing isn’t the story

I mowed the lawns again this week, which, by itself, would be nothing remotely unusual, just an “everyday chore” kind of thing. This time, however, the mowing wasn’t the star of the story because I first had to call on all my new, old, and new/old skills to solve a problem.

Contrary to how it may seem, I don’t blog about it every time I mow the lawns: That’s what Facebook’s for. However, if I had mentioned it here on December 3, I’d have said that the line in the line trimmer’s line snapped off inside the spool while I was using it (something I know so precisely because I mentioned it on Facebook that day). I had no idea how to fix it, so I put it in the “too hard” basket (when I remembered it at all…) and just mowed.

Eventually, that little thing became a big thing.

Last week, I noticed the edges (fence line, house perimeter) were getting bad. I needed to get the line trimmer working again. I needed to figure out how to do that. That was Monday’s first job.

I knew I needed to check the manual, but I had no idea where I’d put it, just that it’s “somewhere safe, where I can find it again”. I also didn’t see a model number on the trimmer. So, I went to the website for Bunnings, which is the only chain selling Ryobi products, because they often have product manuals available. Turns out, the model I have has been completely changed, so the manual was of no use.

I went back to the line trimmer and finally found the model number (on a sticker on the shaft, not anywhere I’d looked), googled that and found the manual on the Ryobi website. I’ll be kind and just say the manual was utterly useless, with no mention of the problem or how to fix it.

I still wasn’t sure what to do, but, hey, Google is my best friend, so I searched for how to fix jammed line in a Ryobi line trimmer, and found a YouTube video by some guy in the USA on exactly what I needed to do. It was clear and simple, unlike the official product manual, and it took me mere minutes to open the bump head, remove the old line, put the head back together and then reload the line. Simple—when you know how!

So, Monday afternoon, I trimmed and mowed out front, and also swept up the trimmer debris (there’s always quite a bit, mostly from doing the edges by the concrete). It had taken me all day to get to that point, so that was it.

The next day, Tuesday, I mowed the back of the section, after first using the line trimmer to tidy the edges of the house perimeter, around that patio, and the flat part of the fence: I didn’t attempt to trim the weeds on the bank (which I’ve now nicknamed “The Devil’s Lair” because I hate it).

I also pulled out (by hand) Kikuyu that had gone mad, as it does, around the spot where I park my rubbish and recycling wheelie bins. There was rather a lot of it. The line trimming went really well, though. So did the mowing, of course.

Finally, I swept up the mess the line trimmer flicked everywhere on the patio (it’ll be good dry matter for my compost bin), and poured boiling water on what was left of one pesky weed that grows in the tiny gap between the concrete patio and the brick veneer of the house.

This story is, on the surface, about another week of mowing, which I’ve been doing around once a week for quite a while now. However, this story is actually about overcoming yet another obstacle.

Nigel and I bought the line trimmer in 2018, possibly to prepare for my birthday in January 2019 (because we knew people would be coming round to the house that weekend). He put the thing together. I don’t know what I was doing at the time, but I didn’t even know he was doing it, much less see how it went together.

When the line broke, I knew I’d have to figure out what to do, so I turned to the time-honoured solution of googling to find the answer I needed. It took a lot longer than I expected, mainly because I thought—foolishly, it turned out—that the manual would have instructions on what to do. When it didn’t, I at one point I thought I might have to replace the entire head, but I came to my senses, realising that couldn’t possibly be true—it couldn’t have been that badly designed!

I kept googling until I found the video that taught me what to do. The guy in the video even mentioned that the line snapping off inside the head was a common enough thing—so why did Ryobi make absolutely no mention of it in the manual?! If the manual had been even a little clearer and/or complete, I might’ve figured it out.

The important thing, really, is that I hit a problem, and at first I avoided dealing with it. When it was becoming important that I fix the problem, I persisted (for hours…) in trying to find the right solution, until I did, and then I fixed the problem. This sort of progression is nothing new for me, not would it have been unusual for Nigel, either. But ever since he died, I’ve had to figure out everything on my own, no matter how far outside my areas of knowledge and experience it might be, and then do that over and over and over again. I do this sort of thing whenever I need to, no matter how annoying them may sometimes be, like because of, oh, I don’t know, maybe a useless product manual or something.

When I shared this story on Facebook on Tuesday, I added:

Two loads of washing done, too. All of this stuff makes up my normal chores, and has nothing to do with any projects. I mention this because it goes to show I’m always doing stuff, even if it’s not big, creative, or Insta worthy. When this post comes up in my FB “Memories” next year, it’ll remind me that I actually do quite a lot daily. I need that reminder from time to time.

I definitely do need such reminders, because I definitely forget how much I actually do. I now also realise sometimes I have to do a LOT of work to do before I can do whatever work I actually want to do. This was another one of those times, and there will be more. Like always, I could call on all my new, old, and new/old skills to solve a problem. I need to remember and appreciate the role that plays in so much of what I accomplish.

This time, mowing definitely wasn’t the story.