For some people, mowing the lawn is a meditative experience—a chance to tune out while getting a little exercise walking behind the lawnmower, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass. It’s good old-fashioned domestic man’s work, like your father did before you, his father before him, and so on. Well, not me. I hate mowing the lawn. It’s a numbingly repetitive, sweaty, noisy waste of time. My father hated it too. And I’m pretty sure his dad did before him. Tell you what I do like, though: robots—love ’em!

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