“Moral hazard. Is that the phrase I’m looking for?”
The clickity-clackiting of Iris’ keyboard stops briefly. “Depends. What’s the context?” she asks with a sense of dread. She knows me well.
“Right. Here it is: the moral hazard of wearing shoes when mowing the lawn…”
“Josh.”
“… is that since we feel safer, we’ll be less cautious.”
“You’re not going to mow the lawn without shoes, are you?”
“If we’re less cautious, we’re actually less safe wearing shoes, especially considering how little protection shoes offer in a spinning-blade-of-death-gone-wrong scenario.”
“Josh.”
“I mean, really, defending the protectiveness of shoes is kind of like defending the protectiveness of the armor worn by She-Ra.”
“I really don’t want you mowing the lawn barefoot.”
“Or Red Sonja. So the only reason to wear shoes when mowing the lawn is that in the event something awful happens the awfulness won’t be blamed on bare feet. That’s not reason enough for me. In fact, I think I’m going to strive for a life free of moral hazard. If that’s the phrase I’m looking for. Is it?”
“Sigh. Yes.”
(Regular readers may remember that mowing the lawn is not generally my duty in this household, that the wife is the one who gets to play with heavy machinery while I toil away in the kitchen. Ever since she broke her finger in that fistfight with a chipmunk, opportunities for me to contribute to the family have increased.)
“Really? I just assumed I was wrong.”
“You are wrong – about thinking I’m going to let you mow barefoot. Would you at least wear sandals? That would make me feel safer.”
“EXACTLY! You’d feel like shoes would make me safer without them actually being safer. Shoes are like a Cursed Shield of Moral Hazard (-3 AC). We’d be better off without shoes if being barefoot puts us in a more fearful, ergo cautious, forthwith reality-based frame of mind.”
“Forthwith? Seriously?”
“Off to the shed I go, with sober mind and foot. I shall be a candle in this demon haunted world.”
“I hope you’re going to credit Carl Sagan for that line.”
“What do you mean?”
“This whole conversation has a very bloggy feel to it. You’ve got that glaze over your eyes that you get when you’re writing a post in your head instead of listening to me.”
“Of course I’m listening to you. Hey, will you take a picture of my grass-stained feet for the blog?”
—
Hat-tip to Bob Neinast.
love the dialog. good stuff.
I have been mowing the lawn barefoot and it didn’t occur to me that it would be more dangerous than with shoes. So maybe barefoot isn’t safer for me.
A lawn mower blade wouldn’t be discouraged by any shoes I have. Maybe if I had steel toed work boots.
Though I have stepped on plants with picky splintery spines that get stuck in my skin which is annoying.
Splinters build character.
I mark the end of Winter with the first time my feet are stained green after mowing the yard barefoot.
Great post!
So . . . seeing no picture I must assume you lost.
An understandable assumption, but happily not the case. The conversation written above (with a few poetically licensed embellishments) happened last week. I wrote this post thinking I was going to mow today and therefore have a picture to post, but that mission has been postponed due to baby sparrows in a nest. Iris doesn’t want the noise from the mower to scare them onto the ground, where they’ll be at the mercy of the mower. They’re likely to get injured because they’re not wearing shoes.
Just rolled my 20-sided die. You are now cursed with donkey ears and gnarled teeth.
Oh Iris, that’s not how curses work. Stick to the Barbarian stuff.
yeah. it is armor class not magic resistance. you’re going to have to roll a 20 to hit.
Just don’t come crying to this barbarian when you all mow your feet off.
We really need to get together for beers and some AD&D. I have this crazy campaign in mind that involves trails, zombies, and possessed lawnmowers.
You could post a picture of Red Sonja in lieu of your grass-stained feet. Just a suggestion.
I have a reel mower. Since a twig will stop it cold, I imagine my toes would as well — except that my toes would likely be mangled in the process. I like Bob’s advice. Don’t mow your toes, period. Cheers!
You know… there was a time (before they changed the rules) when a low armor class was preferred. So, what rules are you playing by? I say mow the grass barefooted and wipe your feet before walking on the carpet.