Last year, when the power mower was broken and wou

I kept hinting to my husband that he ought to get it fixed, but somehow the
message never sunk in.
Finally I thought of a clever way to make the point. When my husband arrived
home that day, he found me seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a
tiny pair of sewing scissors. He watched silently for a short time, and then
went into the house. He was gone only a few moments, and when he came out again
he handed me a toothbrush.
"When you finish cutting the grass," he said, "you might as well sweep the
sidewalks�.
He will be just fine when they take the casts off.