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.