Here are the cold, hard facts:
Thirty-one 12x8” holes dug in dirt approximating cement.
Weeds, some I suspect from alien worlds, tackled and beat back so
Chloe, her mom and a shovel could get through to dig thirty-one 12x8” holes in
said cement.
Thirty-one designer Daylilies with their creepy octopus-like roots
planted in holes chipped from concrete, watered and fertilized generously.
Mulch deposited with great care and artistic flare around thirty-one
designer Daylilies in concrete.
Thirty-one designer Daylilies left to fend for themselves in the great
big, weedy world as Chloe and mother crawl into the house and collapse at my
dog’s feet.
Everything hurts.
I believe my brain is trying to leak out of my right eyeball.
Writing is so far from my current capabilities that the thought of
creating a single, entertaining sentence is laughable.
Ok, laughing hurts too.
Tomorrow I will either be better or I’ll be dead.
I’m leaning toward the former, especially if I can find a tub of Bengay
somewhere.
I wish you all a pain-free evening with no mind matter dripping from
orifices.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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