the twisted gardens of the mind


that was almost me today. my wonderful gf would have come home from work to find me: dead on the couch, a trickle of blood from my nose, and the cats probably chewing on my fingers. why?

well, let me back up several hours: this afternoon, in a stroke of i can totally do that myself, i pulled the old push-lawn mower out of the gardening shed and mowed the lawn. and by lawn, i really mean several long narrow strips of grass that would fill maybe 5% of my grandparent’s yard, which i used to mow when i was a teenager.

oh, wait. it has literally been more than 20 years since i’ve touched a lawn mower, let alone tried to assault anything with one. but seriously, what could go wrong? by the time i was done, my thighs hurt, my shoulders hurt – it took all my strength to drag the mower to the side of the house and then stumble inside to the couch, where i tried to rehydrate, as if i’d just tried out for the olympic track team in 110° heat.

so there i lay, for an unknown length of time. waiting for the throbbing in my head and neck to subside. considering my near miss with a deadly lawneurysm.

considering the idea that a gardener would be totally worth my money.


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