Ginormous Bags of Weedy Goodness
Funny how you can spend more time putting off a job than actually doing it.
That's not what happened this time, though.
It took me virtually all weekend, and I had to do the thing I hate most about gardening--bag and tote a buncha buncha herbage around to the trash bins in back--but I did it. I restored harmony in my little eighth-acre of heaven.
Ah.
Now I'm going to get back to work on my new novel.
(Psych.)
categories: home garden
posted by lisa schamess @ 15:42
4 Comments:
Arg. The narcissism. Many of us garden, eat, etc. But we don't all foist it on the public. I'll say it hurts.
No, I just foist all this on family and friends. But thanks for crashing the party. I like your style: my haters usually can't spell.
Sorry. I was having a bad day. Shouldn't foist that on you. But here's my point: Experience, contemporaneous experience,is drivvle. It's just running commentary. But the banal is elevated when it's metabolized, run through some kind of higher order processor. What did the bard say?..."recollected in tranquility." No revelation, I realize. It's just that someone like you who is so clearly capable of gorgeous higher order processing-- gimmee that. But then I shouldn't blog surf. That's looking for trouble.
Well, Anonymous! I am glad you stopped by again. Sort of wondering why you did. But no matter. It's a relief. You're here. Have a cookie.
(I confess I don't know what "gorgeous higher order processing" is, but I am glad to be capable of it. It sounds, uh, important).
So important, in fact, that you might consider signing in as yourself next time, or emailing me when you have a bad day. No pressure. Just a thought.
On second thought, only email me when you are having good days, 'kay?
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