Methinks that the designer of such things is either a sadist or has a really, really warped sense of humour.  I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t suffer from weed whacker frustration on a regular basis. 

Interesting that I should find your post now as my husband came through the door a little while ago muttering very bad words indeed after the string on ours disappeared into the housing.  In the interest of household harmony, I went out and fixed it for him, as he lacks patience with such things.  Understandable when he’s been standing out there for awhile in the heat and mosquitoes, of course!  He’s really the mild-mannered, even-tempered sort ... except when weed whacking. ;)

By the way, my word is sweedlepipe.  Sweedlepipe?  Definition, please?

There’s probably an anti-burning ordnance there; I suspect a flame-thrower is verboten.  Put on a large black cloak and use a scythe.  You can imitate the Grim Reaper and incidentally protect yourself from the skeeters at the same time.

"ordinance.” Anti-burning explosive shells are oxymoronic.

Poll Sweedlepipe—a Dicken’s character in Martin Chuzzlewit.

I wonder if the people who design weed whackers ever have to use them. They probably all live in condos.

The black cape and scythe have merit. I’d scare the neighbors to death though. Just have to douse myself with bug repellent and patiently tinker with the string feed. I seem to do that a lot. Almost every time I use it. I was out there muttering that the object of having a tool is actually wanting to use it, not wanting to run every time I look at it.

Lawn tools and I so don’t get along.