Here are the cold, hard facts:
Thirty-one 12×8” holes dug in dirt approximating cement.
Weeds, some I suspect from alien worlds, tackled and beat back so Chloe, her mom and a shovel could get through to dig thirty-one 12×8” holes in said cement.
Thirty-one designer Daylilies with their creepy octopus-like roots planted in holes chipped from concrete, watered and fertilized generously.
Mulch deposited with great care and artistic flare around thirty-one designer Daylilies in concrete.
Thirty-one designer Daylilies left to fend for themselves in the great big, weedy world as Chloe and mother crawl into the house and collapse at my dog’s feet.
Everything hurts.
I believe my brain is trying to leak out of my right eyeball.
Writing is so far from my current capabilities that the thought of creating a single, entertaining sentence is laughable.
Ok, laughing hurts too.
Tomorrow I will either be better or I’ll be dead.
I’m leaning toward the former, especially if I can find a tub of Bengay somewhere.
I wish you all a pain-free evening with no mind matter dripping from orifices.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
I’m not sure I feel comfortable liking this post, it’s brutal.
I trust you’re feeling better today.
LikeLike
Much better, thank you. I fall into sarcasm and exaggeration when I reach a certain point of “Ow!”
LikeLike