The Sluggard

Based upon True events

Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! Proverbs 6:6

It was a blistering, hot July day. No clouds insight. The dew from the morning had been imbibed with alacrity by my weed infested yard hours ago. The sun was now fixed in the height of the heavens when the chubby, middle age man appeared in my periphery dragging what looked to be an archaic lawnmower. I had been sitting on the porch most of the morning reading a theology book with a hot cup of coffee in my hand. Enjoying the shade from my roofed porch, I began to wonder who this man was. I had never seen him before, and why the audacity to mow that apartment building’s lawn on such a sweltering day?

The apartment in question was known for its trouble. Every day, it seemed, the cops or some emergency vehicle was attending to some crises. I knew the landlord. He was a crafty sort of fellow in the slummy sort of way. When I talked to him, I felt like I was always being told a lie. I often would feel like I need to go to confession afterwards, but I never knew quite why. 

Needless to say, the lawn of that apartment was rarely kept up. The grass (if that is what you call it) was always stretching at least four inches higher than the neighbors. Bud Light bottles glittered the lawn, and the occasional open dirty dipper would be seen on my walk to the bakery. During the winter months, the snow-covered lawn actually looked like a treasure map from all the urine drizzled upon it the night before.  Every now and again, I would wake up to the lawn being mowed. I often wonder how it happened. Being home most of the day as a stay-at-home-dad, I was in the position to know: lawnmowers are loud you see. Thus, all the more exciting to finally see the culprit who was in charge of ridding my neighborhood of this sore sight.

After studying the man for a good amount of time, I returned to my theology book. I noticed that he was wearing a worn out, gray, stained shirt that reached about the middle of his belly button. His hairy belly splattered out just enough to make those walking by feel weird. His cut-off shorts had the unfortunate advantage of revealing way too much of his small, blindingly white legs. His white tube socks pulled up mid-calf and the classy black Velcro shoes looking brand spanking new. Trying to withhold passing judgment on the fellow’s fashion, I tried with get eagerness to imagine the man’s inner beauty, for after all, “This man was working for a living,” I said “and you got to respect a man who works for a living,” I told myself, as thoughts of my wife at worked flashed before me. 

The lawnmower started right up to my surprise, and the man began swaying back and forth throughout the lawn. It could have only been about four or five moments before I heard the mower stop. I looked up thinking to myself that the long grass must have jammed the blade, but to my astonishment, the man was now sitting on the front steps lighting up a cigarette.

“You got to be kidding me,” I thought.

“Is he really taking a break already!?”

I chuckled a bit and began reading. Soon I heard the mower going again.

“Well that was quick,” I noted to myself.

But then the mower stopped again only a few moments latter. This time I stood up to see what could have possibly caused the disruption of this project this time. I noticed the man huffing and puffing while slowing lowering himself to the ground to gather his breath. Looking like he passed out, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He pushed a few buttons and was soon talking to someone for only a few seconds. He hung up and placed the phone back into his pocket. Soon, a skinny, old woman emerged from the apartment building carrying a Coke. She handed the soda can to the whaled gentlemen, who subsequently drained it like nectar. After a couple more huffs and puffs, the man was back to work.

By this time my book had been placed on the ground. I was befuddled with this man. I could not take my eyes off of him. Hours must have passed. It was incredible. I had never seen anything quite like it. A lawn I could have mowed in a half an hour was taking this man now 5 hours.  More cigarettes, more Coke, and more huffing and puffing. The phone would ring and the job would stop. The old women would appear, and the job would stop. Stop, stop, stop … this was the pattern. I couldn’t wait to tell my wife what I witnessed this day.

The evening finally came. My wife pulled into the driveway to be met by her energetic husband. I told her she would not believe what happened to me. I began to describe all that had transpired as we entered our house. Laughter and “Oh, my!” were heard periodically throughout my tale. I had finally dazzled her with my story telling ability when she changed the subject to what I had done all day. I looked at her perplexed.

“I just told you,” I said.

“Really,” she sharply said “all you did today was watch that man fail at mowing a lawn?”

“Yeeees,” I cautiously said.

“What about dinner, the laundry, your homework, and picking up the house? She demanded, as she continued with, “I noticed the bed is not made, and the refrigerator is empty. I thought you were going to go to the store for me?”

“Right,” I pusillanimously muttered, as I lowered my head in shame.