If only I could somehow shoot my thoughts direct from my head to this blog while I'm in the garden..
Some funny shit happens out there. Flag drippers popping out and squirting water into my face, I yell when I come across a buried stag beetle or spider, I'm constantly getting caught talking to myself by the neighbors...
Just today I was talking out loud, "ok.. weeded the patio, I'll rake, then WHOOOAAA!' That was supposed to be 'rake and blow', as in use the leaf blower (yooo hooo up here on the curb), but I hopped over the daylilies right onto the rake, which then stood up and hit me square in the face.
(side note: do you know how hard it is to find a picture of Tom (ala Tom and Jerry) getting hit in the face with a rake?)
Work done today? 5 hours of ripping out rose bushes and fighting with the weed wacker (Or is that whacker.. I never know. Not that it matters because I hate that goddamn thing like Tonya Harding hates Nancy Kerrigan). I removed all the dead vegetable plants, cut back the daisies and the goldsturm, trimmed the ivy and the lavender, mowed the lawn, edged, raked.. I even planted my left over daffodil bulbs.
My body hurts. Who's supplying the massage?