There’s an anxious disquiet in my spirit. Not a week passes where I
don’t feel sickened by the ways of the world its impassive people and by
that soap scum that builds up along the chrome that seats glass shower
doors (I clean it. It comes back. I clean it. It comes back. It’s a weed
only it doesn’t look like a cute little yellow daisy) Goes beyond reading
the paper to find out that a few depraved characters would calculate shooting
someone in the head for money to go buy chicken wings. $36 is the price
of a life today. (Debbie, $36 dollars is the annual per capita income in
Nicaragua. True, but it costs $100 to import good chicken wings) I find
this heinous crime even more revolting since the victim was a pizza delivery
guy and pizza is my favorite food (To me, this guy was doing the Lord’s
work. Why the assailants didn’t just grab and make away with the yummy
pie, you got me). I’m thinking- couldn’t you just go into a wing place,
even in a poor neighborhood, flash your weapon and say “I plan to shoot
someone for wing money. You can prevent this act of gross and senseless
violence by simply giving me yesterday’s wings, a medium 7up, and don’t
be skimping on the napkins.” It shouldn’t surprise anyone that the perps
each had horrendous rap sheets listing offenses on a completely different
order than “walked across private lawn, stomping Mrs. Thorton’s little
yellow daisy garden in the process.” Where’s the love?
Oh, you have to hear this. The story of Halle and Herbert begins here.
My two plants.
Halle is rather reluctant to flourish. I don’t exactly have a green
thumb, even when I read the directions on the plant and wear fake gold
rings. Recently when my mother was visiting I told her to take Halle. That
I was strictly a no fuss cactus person. Right about then I could’ve sworn
Halle started to droop. So I couldn’t do it. Now I’m stuck with her.
I decided to make the best of it by telling Halle every day that I
love her. Herbert is far more secure in my feelings for him. I believe
that my proclamations of affection are going to help Halle grow. Maybe
you want that I should make some kind of guinea pig out of Herbert by telling
him daily that I hate him. Think again plant hater, you vegetarian, ye
destroyer of daisies! Also worth noting is that I replanted Halle in a
pot that’s way too big, hoping the framework for expansion will facilitate
and ultimately actuate a successful transition into new regional markets.
I’m simply way oversensitive and it’s not just to living things. Once a
boyfriend of mine brought me home a stuffed animal knowing full well I
had way more than I could house. To this day my mother believes that the
reason I’m such a still sleeper is because as a kid I’d bunk in with no
less than 100 stuffed animals that I didn’t think enjoyed lying down on
a hard display shelf without so much as a pillow or a blanket (the fake
fur is deceptively thin). This past boyfriend of mine was a garbage collector
(it just occurred to me that this may reflect poorly on my own worth) and
one day he hands me this large junky Christmas reindeer that someone at
work was ready to throw out. I was in the midst of following suit when
said Christmas reindeer pouted at me thus saving himself from a seedy life
at the local landfill. A sad anthropomorphic “adopt me” grimace and I’m
transformed into this animist fool who’s thinking that if I chuck this
thing out I’m never getting jack s**t from Santa. Bears repeating- be kind
to your fellowman. Alot of them are packing.
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