I cut the lawn at Love's place, yesterday; a bit unevenly, I can see, today. The large riding lawn mower that I drove down a busy country road from Betty's house to here was hard for me to handle on the hilly lawn. In certain places, especially as I first got going, it felt like the big brute might turn over on me.

Betty told me, this morning, over waffles, at The Waffle House, that she had heard that sometimes when those tractors turn over on you, that a spark can fly igniting a fire and you can burn to death while being trapped under the tractor. Hell, maybe we ought to pay somebody to cut the grass.

I'd rather let the grass grow than die cutting it; like Betty said, "I wouldn't want to go to hell, before I go to heaven!!"

**Betty is Love's mom.