Hot stuff

This morning was just glorious and I hit the front patio by 7.45 with ciggie and caffeine in hand to enjoy an invigorating, sunny morning. Bloody marvelous, it was. So marvelous in fact that I had an overwhelming urge to plant the tomato and sunflower seeds I bought last night, and repot the perennials I scored from the "dying darlings" area at the Red Shed.

Sow I did. Sitting down.

Then, because I had no legs today, I spent a few hours crawling around the gardens weeding and tidying the edges and shit. You know, mindless emptiness to just freewheel past life's issues and go right to a state of utter indifference. That is, until the dog walked through the new garden and left paw-prints in my immaculately groomed soil (I couldn't get up off the ground, so I titivated the garden, ok? Anyone would think I'd been ironing underwear or something. Hell, anyone would think I'd been ironing. Errk)

For the first time in my adult life, I have a tidy, nice looking garden. I'm gonna manicure that bitch into submission if it fucking kills me. Legs or no legs. Pain or no pain. Help or no help. I've become the sort of gardener my mother always wished I was - a convert. My kids already cringe about Mum nicking cuttings... and picking up pots on the side of the road *oops* H says I am becoming my father.

Noooooooooooo

As an aside, did you know that time it takes to heat a wheatsack for the 3 minutes and thirty seconds required in a microwave, is directly dependent on how cold/tired/sore one is?

And you thought watching pots was bad... ha!

x3 = time to write a blog post and smoke a ciggie as well; thank God for multitasking.