Saturday night was date night. This was our date. We went out for dinner, barbecue at one of the better places around. Barbecue is one of the only things I’m legally allowed to be a snob about, and I take that seriously. What we had was flavorful, and moist. It was probably slow cooked. It was not over an open flame. If there’s no chimney stack coming out of the building, it isn’t technically barbecue. But, here, and in a pinch, it’ll do.

My lovely bride order the brisket, and there was some modifier on the order, which threw me for a loop. What did that mean? So I just said, Order whatever you usually get for me, because I was struggling to understand the variation in her order. She gave me a look. “You change your order so infrequently, how do you not know what you get? For some reason this amused the young woman running the register. She thought it was undeniably cute, and asked us to please come back often. I did a little joke or two and The Yankee wisely, but slowly, said, “Don’t encourage him.”

Wise because, of course, she knows better. Slowly because, of course, the encouragement had already happened.

I took this as my cue to get the drinks.

I got the drinks. And then there was our food, which we enjoyed.

And then, to cap off date night, we went to Lowe’s.

The store closes at 10, we got there at 9 and picked up the things we needed, filters for the air conditioner, some plumbing supplies, steak seasonings.

We did not get steak seasonings, but they had an entire end cap devoted to some of your finer mid-range shake-on condiments. We were in the market for a weed eater, because ours recently died, and the weeds did not stop growing out of respect for our loss.

So there we stood, trying to figure out the thises and thats. And an employee walked by. Volunteered to help, and was very helpful. (When was the last time either or both of those things happened at a big box store?) Helpful for the most part. Some of the things he said weren’t accurate, it turns out, but that’s OK. He was helpful in the ways that mattered the most. Then he gave us a brief bio on the 1960s-1980s band Badfinger. He was definitely the sort of guy that could do that. And then he gave us his testimony. He also saved us $20 on the list price.

We decided that going late at night is the time. Because the guys might help, and they’re really just trying to get you out of the store, of course.

So we bought a battery-powered weed eater. The selling point, to me, seems to be the battery life. Otherwise, dig out machine, machine turn on, machine chop up green things. Store machine. So the little tags at the store said this battery runs for 25 minutes, this one for 70 minutes, and this one works for 45.

I figured that the 45-minute battery is sufficient for our needs. And if it’s not, I could buy another battery. The batteries are expensive, so rationale number two. If I run down the battery, I simply go inside, charge the battery, cool off and live to eat weeds another day.

Sunday afternoon, buzzing after our successful date, I assembled the weed eater, glanced at the manual, and went outside already sweating from building the thing in the garage. I ate about six weeds, and then went inside to charge the battery. (The guy said it was 70 percent charged out of the box. It was not.)

I charged the thing. And then went out later and gave those weeds the what for.

Right away, the battery-powered element of this new tool paid for itself. I didn’t have to collect the extension cords. I didn’t have to run them to an outlet and plan my attack based on cord length and outlet placement. And, when I was done, I didn’t have to roll cords back up. Two or three more rounds, I figure, and this will have paid for itself based on convenience alone. And when has anyone ever been enthused about running a weed eater.

So now I’m rethinking my positions — not strongly held, mind you — about battery-powered power tools.

Today, buzzing after my successful weed eating efforts, I spent the afternoon at one of the local libraries doing school work. Being a public library, it was only somewhat useful. But nevertheless, I got something for my efforts. See if you can guess which one of these books was the most helpful.

The one in the middle. I picked it up as a flier, and eventually decided it will define an entire day’s worth of lecture. Then I bought the book. Not from the library, which would make it a store. But through the powers of the 21st century I found it on e-bay and had it sent directly to the house. Next week, I guess, I’ll start making slides.

As I write this, there’s a back-to-school commercial on, which isn’t bumming out anyone.

Anyway, this class will meet 28 times in the fall term. I think 19 of those meetings are now accounted for, so I have had some productive summer work.

But there is much more to do!

We got invited for a bike ride by our neighbor. The guy that lives behind us is also a big fan of the self-propelled two wheel experience. He’s of the sort that must decide which bicycle he wants to ride today. It’s a problem to which I aspire.

He bought a new computer and the Varia radar, which we have and enjoy. It’s a light that you attach to the seat rails. It sense cars and communicates with the headset and you when cars are coming up from behind. Or, as one Reddit reviewer wrote, it’s “The peace of mind I didn’t know I needed.”

We coached him through it, though he had most of it figured out in the brief ride around the neighborhood to our place. Then my lovely bride found she had a flat, so she had to switch bikes. (It’s a problem to which I aspire. The bikes, not the flats.) Not wanting to hold us up, she didn’t put her Varia on her bike. And, of course, after about half an hour mine died. (So, after all that about battery-powered tools above, I’m now looking for an extension cord version of the bike radar.) That meant our neighbor had the only running radar.

Of course, we put him the front, as you see the shadows pictured here.

It would, of course, make sense for him to be in the rear, so he could call out the cars. But it was in the evening and we were on some mostly abandoned roads and it wasn’t a problem. Plus we can watch out for vehicles the old fashioned way, listening and looking.

There’s not really a good point or resolution to this story, other than we enjoyed a nice ride. As we got back to the neighborhood they turned right and I kept on riding, just to add a few more miles before dinner.

There are always more miles ahead.

OK, that’s 1,220 words, and the best ones were about bikes and a weed eater. I should probably wrap this up.