Dear Person Who Winds The Weed-Eater Stuff Around The Coil Thing,

I can just see you there at your workplace, winding weed-eater stuff around the spool, tying little knots, melting strands together, changing direction, putting weak spots here and there so the stuff will break every few yards. . . . smiling, and loving your job and picturing me, trying to use what you have created, having to stop every thirty seconds to disassemble the $%^& thing, search for and eventually find the end even if I have to cut a new one, poke it through the little hole, get the spool back on, plug it in again, pull the trigger, and trim maybe a full square foot before it breaks again and the whole process starts over.

I’ve been out in the front yard trying to use your product, and after 16 breaks, 16 disassemblies, 16 attempts to find the end of the stuff to poke through the hole and finally giving up and using scissors to create one, I surrendered. You win. I fought with this weedeater for over an hour and my nerves are shot. Oh, and I was able to trim maybe ten feet along the sidewalk. Maybe.

There will be no Beautiful Lawn award for me this summer. You might, however, be reading about a woman driven insane by a shoddily-made weedeater spool who climbed to the top of a railroad bridge and threw the thing into the White River, laughing loudly all the while.

If you do, just move along. She’ll go to Appleacres for some peaches after she climbs back down, and all will be well.

I’d be better off, and get the job done faster, if I just crawled around the yard on my hands and knees clipping with the manicure scissors.

Stupid weed-eater stuff on the spool.

I mean it! Sincerely, Mamacita