Watch the video embedded below and you will understand my sudden sentimentality.
If I'm a little obsessed with the dratted song, please bear with me. I hear it in my head all day long and it is the current flavour of my every day.
I guess I'm feeling a little out of sorts because I have to go to work tomorrow. To make a long story short, I sent away some urgent printing on Thursday when I "finished work". Now the gosh-darned printers have let Wendy know a file is missing and they cannot proceed. After driving all the way to work to fix my idiocy this afternoon, I was informed that the computer was at the bosses' house and would I please meet Wendy at the office at 10:00 tomorrow. As I've said before, there is absolutely No Rest for the Wicked.
Meanwhile, I discovered an insanely fertile bed in the garden - an area which will soon become part of our vegetable garden. As soon as you pull out the weeds, they sprout again only bigger. Perhaps I should stick a bean in there. If the soil is magical but not the bean, will I still be able to climb all the way up the stalk and steal some giant's golden egg laying duck?
Fables aside, I genuinely fear that when we prepare the bed comes pumpkin plantin' season, we'll unearth some ghastly putrefied remains. That there looks recently dug in, even though The One assures me it's where he's been getting the cat litter from.
I also discovered, fascinatingly, that dragging your ass on the grass to get rid of worms is highly inefficient and only results in grass stains on your behind. Wonder if the Omo will get rid of them as effortlessly as advertised? The stains, that is. The worms, I'll have to get Vermox for.
Written by I