Steve Mowing the Lawn

I love my husband, I really do, even when he tries to mow the lawn. You see his dad never let him mow so Steve's first attempt was here. It was not a good attempt. His attempts get worse and almost landed him in the dog house many times. Especially when he mowed down my azaleas. Then the poor roses, along with everything else. The clumps and the green sidewalks are just a sight to see. Last night he started mowing. Then I didn't hear the mower, I look and don't see him. I go outside a little bit nervous, no Steve. Okay here he comes, he never filled the gas tank. Now that he got it filled he starts again. I am really feeling for him because with all of the rain the grass is growing fast and thick. Our grass is thick anyway. I don't hear him again, now where is he? Yikes he's in the back yard! He didn't mow there last week, it is really thick and high. I sneak out the front door, I see the lawnmower and no Steve, I go back in, I know he has been in the house, where is he now? Back outside. Here he comes, "Give me a big pliers"! None to be found. "Then give me a hammer!" I know this is not good. It wasn't. Bang, bang, bang!!! It's dead! He ran over something, the blade is mangled. The little green machine is in the back yard, alone, sitting on a lawn that is 1/4 of the way cut. I think we need to hire lawn people.