I have a blister.

Being a girl sucks sometimes. Now, I'm not talking about the emotional roller coaster that women deal with, or the fact that we have to shave our legs, no I'm talking about the feeling of failure that fills your being when you can't start a lawnmower.

I today, experienced failure. I got up, pulled the hair back, and put on my tennis shoes hoping to show the lawn who's boss. Technically the upstairs neighbor said that he would take care of the mowing, but as the last time he did so, all that got cut was the outer ring of the lawn, making it appear to have a mo-hawk. Ever since then it's been up to me to cut the grass. Which is fine, I enjoy pushing a mower and taking care of our house, working hard, these are all things I enjoy doing. Today, however, I wasn't able to enjoy them.

After moving the ever growing pile of brush (branches that have fallen from our tree in the back yard) that is located next to the door of our fence that surrounds our back lawn, I pushed the lawn mower into the back yard. I realize now, that placing fallen limbs next to the fence was not a good idea as it took me a good five minutes to scoot and shuffle the sticks out of the way so I could crack the fence gate open, I guess that will be another yard project for another day...

Anyways, once I got the mower into the yard, I started the process of starting the mower. I pulled, I tugged, I pulled some more. I made sure that I held the bar back on the mower while I pulled, I primed the engine and pumped the little button 3x's, not more than that for fear I would flood the engine, and still, I could not start that stupid mower!

I called out my roommate, who is currently recovering from being sick, and made her try to start it. Nothing. I tried in one last attempt to try to start the stupid thing, wondering to myself why I moved so far away from my dad, my heart pumping, and my arm now aching. All of this, led to nothing. I muttered under my breath my personal thoughts towards the mower, and rolled the darn thing back to the shed where I got it from.

And now I have a blister. Yes, from pulling that darn cord so many times, there's a nice swollen welt at the base of my fingers. And as I keep accidentally aggravating it by bumping it, the whole scenario makes me mad. Mad that I could not get the dumb thing started. I mean, with all my infinite wisdom on lawn care and machine maintenance (haha), I could not do it. I felt like a loser of a girl, who has to rely on someone stronger to get some things done. It also made me mad that I do not have anyone nearby to call on for help when I need it, granted it being something as dumb as starting a mower.

I don't know what this means, if it means anything at all. Probably, there is very little significance to this, but it is still what I am experiencing today. Such problems cause me to reflect, and to see if other problems exist, in my life and in others' lives. For not mowing the lawn is not the problem I have, it's the fact that I could not, cannot, do it on my own. And I wonder, who will help me when such problems arise.