I don't have a honey do list,
I have a damn I have to do this all myself list,
and guess what?
S**t gets done.
In the process of a "check off all this crap on the list" mania,
I have been known to get a mite
uh... crabby, moody, frustrated, irritable...
OK generally pissed off
that King Putz planted trees that were way too large for my postage stamp yard,
that they are all deciduous requiring major leaf cleanup and that they were all given to me as Mother's Day gifts so the guilt of
chopping them down and making stump seating and/or ash plate chargers out of them that I could boast about on pinterest
is out of the question..
and my affordable yard cleanup guy who always helps me
this time of year, is in jail.
Allergies, my newest friend the past 4 years
are loving the exposure to all the pollen, leaf mold
and pine buds I am exposing them to.
They are flourishing and rewarding me
with cotton throat and itchy eyes.
If you add that to the torn yoga pants,
coffee stained, once long sleeved t-shirt that I unceremoniously cut the sleeves off, (while I was wearing mind you), braless with the pendulous wonders hanging free, and throw in
my needing to be dyed, 1 inch root showing hair pulled back
in a pony tail so tight, I have an "eye lift" ensemble
well, is it any wonder I do not have a honey
to "DO" the to do list?
Is it a sign of my age that I no longer care who drives by and sees me in the front yard in this condition? They all speed by way too fast, so I am just a blur anyway. I do however try not to bend over with the uh "posterior" of me facing the street.
One does need to follow some neighborhood decorum.
The backyard is the target today,
as much as I can stand before my eyes swell shut.
Yeah, yeah hilarious...
I'm organized and hilarious but not a size 2.
The universe has some sense of fairness.
Mixed bag of indignities
from an old bag who loves ya