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08.17.2002 -


I've been a carefree single girl the last couple days. You know, flitting about in clubs wearing gauzy DKNY outfits with Kitten Goes To Paris! glitter all over my ta-tas, downing cosmopolitans by the bucketload, and teasing besotted stockbrokers while adjusting the buckle on my snakeskin Manolo Blahniks.

Or, in reality, tromping around my backyard with my unwashed hair tied up in an unattractive clamp with a do-rag thrown over the whole mess wearing dirt-caked jean shorts and a saggy tank top.

Damn, I'm lame.

JB has been out of town the last two days, and I decided to attack the yard on my lonesome. We have this garden area in our backyard that is woefully barren, and it's bugged me since we moved in. So I hit Home Depot AND the local nursery, and loaded up with $200 worth of plants.

Blue flowers and yellow flowers, mostly. I've decided those are the only two colors that are fit for a garden. Pink? Go to hell. Red/orange? Die. Fuschia? Blick. Brown? Well, I can't think of a brown flower, but if there is one I hereby declare it ShitBloom and I won't have it.

$200 actually buys you a heavy load of plants. I mean, just carrying the stuff from my car to the backyard took about a thousand trips. After I got everything situated in the yard, I took a deep breath, and hefted the shovel. And dug. And dug. And dug. And - gotsomeicedteaibuprofen - dug.

There are evil, witchy roots everywhere in our yard, from all the trees close by. You don't just dig, you chop wildly at the ground until you have something approximating a hole. Each hole takes, oh, about 2048329 hours. And the satan-spawn bark dust gets all up in your nose and gives you eentsy little splinters.

I'm still not done. I ran out of garden soil to mix in with the plants, plus my spine threatened to literally detach from my body, leaving me flopped bonelessly on the ground while it floated away to find a nice new sedate body to support.

So when JB gets home tomorrow….surprise!


"What do you mean, I 'get to' dig a bunch of holes for you? Hell no, you started it - you finish it."
"Two letters: BJ."
"Where's the shovel??"

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