The last time I remember actually wanting to mow the lawn was 1983. It was the second semester of my freshman year in college and I was sitting near an open window in my Calculus II class. As the professor discussed derivatives and anti-derivatives I watched as the grounds crew fired up some lawn mowers. After a few minutes the smell of freshly cut grass wafted under my nose and I was overcome with the urge to leap from the window and take over the mowing job. I pictured myself whistling happily as I spent the rest of the day cutting a swath across acres of academic quad.