Unrelated to anything else on this blog...

My grass is being cut this summer by a 15 year old who uses razors to make long, thin cuts on his inner arms.
He does a precise job of doing the lawn - he's careful about not whacking down flowers and always rolls my hose up nicely (I leave it stretched and twirled wherever.) He rides his bike, steering the lawnmower alongside him like a sidecar. He lives in my 'hood, in a trashed out house about 5 blocks away. I am not sure about his family situation. Around here you never know. Anywhere you never know, I suppose.
Call him Trevor. He likes to talk about things, and I like to listen because I find teenagers interesting. Like alien bugs. Ha. He's very bright, I think. Nice kid.
Anyhow today I showed him my mosquito-growing/dog pond, because I think it's interesting and there are some bright red worms in there now. He rolled up his sleeves to check it out, and I saw all these cuts, lots of them. I said, ouch, why, Trevor? He looked embarrassed. Said his only excuse was, he was a teenager. Just playing with razors. I said I was sorry he felt he needed to do that and let it be.
What else was I supposed to say? Nothing I suppose....I do have a tendency to want to jump in and fix things. Or people. (Ask me about my ex husband/s hahaha.)
It suddenly started raining very hard. But my lawn looks nice.