Sure, it would be nice to save the planet.

It would be even nicer to save my eyes and fingers and toes. And anything else that could get smacked with a rock or a projectile, or stuck in the samurai-sharp blades of a lawn mower.

For years, I’d justified the waist-high “lawn” in front of my rental property by telling myself I was saving my digits and orbs to see the green earth for yet another day. Now that I’m a homeowner, however, my pride is letting me know that the grass really does need to be cut. I actually care what my neighbors think. Plus, it’s harder to get the dog in at night when he has all that natural cover.

Enter the green machine: it looks like a toy. Sounds like a toy. You can carry on a conversation while you’re mowing! It’s completely non-threatening and still cuts the grass. Who knew reducing my carbon footprint would also allay so many irrational fears?

Of course, it’s even easier to avoid injury when you’re outside with a camera in one hand and a piece of date cake in the other, and the man actually gets behind the push mower.

I’m not sure I could defend the use of a messenger bag instead of a “purse” as a mature choice, to begin with, but I was glad to see my materialism hasn’t progressed to the point where I care more for a leather bag than for the well-being of my pound puppy.

That said, he’s still not allowed within yards of my precious shoes and boots.