I haven’t tweeted once in my life, but I’m sick of hearing about it already. What once may have been the cool way of letting a hundred people know that you’re about to go mow your lawn now has the feel of a used-to-be-fresh means of communicating. So yesterday, like two-way pagers. And AOL.
Put a lawn sign on your lawn; go door to door for your candidate. Register people to vote. There’s so much we can do through our voices and time. That’s what flips elections.
If you think because I’m a pretty girl I can’t mow a lawn, I’m offended.
Unloved is not the right word… but I never felt I made the grade. Mark was a blond, very attractive little boy, and sporty, so Dad was always teaching him to play cricket on the lawn… I always felt I came second out of two.
I absolutely hate mowing the lawn. When I hear the mowers starting, I want to kill myself: it’s the sound of death approaching. Hoovering’s OK, but I never in my life wanted to have a lawn and certainly never wanted to mow one.
Good people don’t spend their time being good. Good people want to spend their time mowing the lawn and playing with the dog. But bad people spend all their time being bad. It is all they think about.
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