On Edge


I hugged a weed edger yesterday.

The implement not the implementer… as if that makes it any less weird.

Lime sherbet in color, light in hand, electric in spirit, the new string trimmer I found under my Christmas tree quickly stole this OCD girl’s heart.  No longer will my tiny Florida garden be held captive by the whims of an ever-changing neighborhood lawn crew who could care less about my impatiens…

Yes, I realize this makes me sound like I’m 93 and living in a well-planned (and padded) community for end-of-lifers.

Instead of cringing at this fact, however, I choose to embrace the eccentricity and consider it simply planning ahead for my committal in 50 years.

Thinking ahead is key in maintaining a façade of sanity.


Until tomorrow…


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