I went a little crazy yesterday. I lost my marbles, flipped out, came unglued…
WAIT! Don’t leave. I‘ll stop!
Now then, what did I do, you wonder? Well, I’ll tell you.
WAIT! Don’t leave. I‘ll stop!
Now then, what did I do, you wonder? Well, I’ll tell you.
I went to the Home Depot for grout.
Let me guess what you are thinking. Is it something like “Woo-hoo! Livin la Vida Loca at the Home Depot, stocking up on the grout, loser?"
To that, I say--“No, that is not the crazy part (smart-ass).”
The crazy part is that on the way to the flooring department I passed a lovely display of tropical plants.
They were on sale.
Now, I do not want a plant, nor, do I need a plant. Truth be told, I probably should not be allowed to own a plant.
Did I mention that they were on sale?
I intended to put the plant back in its proper place before I left the store. I know my limitations. Actually, I considered ditching the damn thing in the plumbing supply aisle, but I thought that green foliage sprouting from a rack of plungers would be a little obvious. I am not equipped to take on the responsibility of another living thing. I did not want to add plant killer to my list of shortcomings.
Bad mother, Poodle abuser and Parakeetophile are bad enough. Thank you.
I must have been distracted by something shiny on the way back to the garden department, because before I knew it, I was in the check out line with grout, and about forty-two other unwanted items including the damn plant.
Let me guess what you are thinking. Is it something like “Woo-hoo! Livin la Vida Loca at the Home Depot, stocking up on the grout, loser?"
To that, I say--“No, that is not the crazy part (smart-ass).”
The crazy part is that on the way to the flooring department I passed a lovely display of tropical plants.
They were on sale.
Now, I do not want a plant, nor, do I need a plant. Truth be told, I probably should not be allowed to own a plant.
Did I mention that they were on sale?
I intended to put the plant back in its proper place before I left the store. I know my limitations. Actually, I considered ditching the damn thing in the plumbing supply aisle, but I thought that green foliage sprouting from a rack of plungers would be a little obvious. I am not equipped to take on the responsibility of another living thing. I did not want to add plant killer to my list of shortcomings.
Bad mother, Poodle abuser and Parakeetophile are bad enough. Thank you.
I must have been distracted by something shiny on the way back to the garden department, because before I knew it, I was in the check out line with grout, and about forty-two other unwanted items including the damn plant.
Crap!
(Here is where the crazy part comes in).
I TRIED to tell the mean looking cashier who has a working knowledge of power tools that I changed my mind. I WANTED to tell her to forget the plant. I wasn’t taking it. “Never mind” I wanted to chirp, “Sorry for the inconvenience and the potting soil all over your counter, I’ll be on my way now. Toodles! Catch you later! Au revoir! Thanks for the grout and naval jelly! See you soon!”
I COULDN’T.
I COULDN’T.
I TRIED!
Then the plant was mine. The responsibility was mine. The guilt was mine.
And who am I?
I my friends, am Elmyra Duff.
At some point between strapping my potted victim in the car with the seat belt and apologizing to it all the way home, I fell in love with the plant.
"You are my new friend. I will name you Shrub, & I will love you & hug you & squeeze you to death!"
"You have been naughty Shrub. Now I will have to spank you."
Crazy I tell you.
Out-T.
And who am I?
I my friends, am Elmyra Duff.
At some point between strapping my potted victim in the car with the seat belt and apologizing to it all the way home, I fell in love with the plant.
"You are my new friend. I will name you Shrub, & I will love you & hug you & squeeze you to death!"
"You have been naughty Shrub. Now I will have to spank you."
Crazy I tell you.
Out-T.
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